Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
by Kitty O
Summary: When Arthur is taken from right under their noses, Merlin is determined to get him back home and safe. But his kidnappers have their own ideas and won't release him that easily. No slash. Involves Arthur whump. Dedicated to Steffi Hoffman.
1. Chapter 1

They found him easily enough. He wasn't doing anything unusual. He was just sitting in his room at his desk, trying to concentrate of some reports but in reality ruminating over some memory that had just popped into his mind. And he was just sitting there, eyes slightly glazed, thinking over the memory of Sophia and wondering distantly what had ever become of her and her father, when they found him.

He wished he could say that he'd seen it coming, felt it in the air.

He hadn't. When Gwaine, Percival, and Leon entered the room, all he'd felt was mild interest and a thought spared to where Elyan would be. The group was usually together. Retaking a kingdom did tend to cement friendships.

They were silent as they approached his desk, and that's when he would have had to admit that he hadn't seen anything coming. If he had, he wouldn't have sat there calmly. He wouldn't have sighed or said, "Well? What is it?"

And then he knew things were very wrong.

Arthur didn't have time to do anything but let his eyes grow wide before Gwaine lunged forward and wrapped both hands around the king's throat. His grip was tight, restricting, and all of the sudden Arthur couldn't breathe.

He tried to leap to his feet, but Gwaine was stronger than Arthur remembered. He pushed away the other man with his arms, pulling away in an attempt to get free. He was shocked. But not so shocked that he couldn't think to try and get at his sword.

This wasn't, after all, the first time he'd been attacked by people he held dear.

His sword wasn't in his belt. It was by his bed. Arthur pushed Gwaine away a final time and tried to get at the bed while keeping the desk between himself and the new attacker… attackers? Because before he got far, Leon grabbed Arthur by the back of his shirt, making the besieged king lose his balance.

Arthur stumbled and nearly fell, but kept his balance until another blow landed on his side – and again, he hadn't known any of his knights were that strong. He crashed to the ground, wincing as his arm crumpled beneath them. They were still just standing around him. Why weren't they drawing their swords? Hadn't he taught them better than to attack while unarmed? He blindly reached out one hand to try to grab one of them by the ankles, but stopped short with a muted scream.

It was all pain from that direction, fogging his mind, but when he concentrated he thought he could pinpoint the source of his pain. His hand had been stomped on, and Percival's foot had broken it. He knew it was broken, and when he looked, it was leaking blood from where his nails had curled into his palm.

That's what made it real, and it suddenly dawned on him like it hadn't before.

He was in his room, lying on the floor, injured, being attacked by his friends. His most trusted friends.

He twisted so he was looking up at the stone hard faces of his knights. Gwaine, looking ridiculous without his smile. Leon, looking horribly out of place. Percival, looking scary without the usual gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"What?" he choked in a strained voice, for the pain from his hand was still washing through his system and was blockading his throat. "Why are you…? Why…?"

And as he looked at them, he realized with a start that if he focused on them, the knights disappeared, and he could see brown-robed figures with hard, staring faces behind the form of his knights. Sorcerers. That's why they hadn't drawn the weapons. They weren't real weapons. These people weren't his knights.

And despite everything, he found that comforting.

The sorcerer in the middle, who kept changing into Percival when Arthur blinked, bent down towards the decked king. Arthur drew back into the floor and pulled his arm closer to himself, fearful that someone would touch it. It already felt twice its normal size, and he was having trouble focusing for the pain it was sending through him. As the man, who had a thick, fat face, leant down towards him, Arthur had the sudden urge to retch.

He couldn't reach his sword. He couldn't punch. And he was surrounded. It was too late to scream. Probably no one would hear if he did anyway.

He was in deep, deep trouble.

The man was right in his face now, disgusting breath washing over Arthur's mouth and nose. He had to force himself not to gag or hold his breath.

Just an inch or so away, the sorcerer in the cloak stopped and his eyes flashed gold.

_It's over, _Arthur thought.

The man said, "Gwneud yn anymwybodol."

Everything went dark, and Arthur's last thought was that his hand hurt very, very badly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm assuming I'll continue this. But, to be honest, I'm not positive how. When I started out the story, it was supposed to go an entirely different direction. But what does the muse care about my plans? So, if anyone has any suggestions, I'm open. **

**What I think this story will contain: No slash (a given!), some bromance, Protective and/or bamf!Merlin, and Arthur whump. Arthur doesn't get whumped enough, really. But we will see. **

**So, please review. Is it worth continuing? To a three shot? Full fledged story? Tell me what the public wants!**

**For now, Kitty O, out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First of all, and I forgot to mention it before, this story is for Steffi Hoffman for all the reviewing does and constant defense of our silly prince/king/shirtless scene. It makes me think. Also, because Steffi Hoffman really likes Arthur whump, so it's only fair to dedicate a story with Arthur whump that-a-way…**

**I think I have a bit of a better idea where I'm going with this… But I'm still not sure how long I want the chapters to be. Anyone care? Long or short? I'm partial to short myself, unless of course a fic is just that amazing, because they're quicker and easier to read and write, but I want to know what you say. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

><p>Merlin was in the armory when the warning bells began to ring.<p>

There was something uncanny about the warning bells of Camelot. They had a magic of their own; whoever rang them always knew what was going on and when. And Merlin had learned to pay attention to those bells. They could save you or condemn you. A little like Camelot herself.

Clutching his cleaning rag, Merlin stood and felt his body automatically start towards Arthur's rooms. If the king regent – no, king, Merlin couldn't believe he was still slipping up on that sometimes! – was there, then he would know what was going on.

Merlin climbed the stairs at a pace just below a run, not worried, but aware. He wasn't sure how big of a deal this was just yet, but he knew from experience that it was best to be ready for anything. Wind whipped through his short hair as he reached the top and turned the corner into the hall where Arthur's rooms were.

A small congregation of people was grouped there around the door. Merlin felt that awareness climb up a level into wariness. He picked up the pace and reached the door in a second, turning to the first person he saw—a guard.

"What's wrong?"

The man shrugged. Merlin pushed past him and into the room, very nearly worried now. "What's wrong?" he said again.

Only two people were in the room: Agravaine and Gaius. They were over by Arthur's desk, shaking their heads in that annoying way older people had and muttering. Some papers on the desk had been dropped onto the floor, and others clumsily replaced, like someone had gone through them. The bedspread was neat, but not neat enough to Merlin's servant's eyes. He'd made it better than that this morning, he was sure of it.

"What's going on?" Merlin interrupted, looking at Gaius.

It was Agravaine who answered. "The king is missing."

Merlin's eyebrows drew together. "He's missing? What do you mean, he's missing? Did you check the training fields? The throne room? The lower town?"

"Everywhere has been checked," Agravaine answered, not outwardly annoyed by Merlin's impertinent questions. That was one thing about Agravaine; he was so used to smiling and looking nice and lenient that he kept up the act even around Merlin, whom he knew didn't trust him. After Morgana's smirks of last year, Merlin found it refreshing. But he was not to be put off today.

"How long has he been missing? What happened? Surely someone saw him leave?"

Gaius saw the annoyance flicker across Agravaine's face, and he reprimanded, "Merlin…"

"The boy is just worried, Gaius," Agravaine said. "As am I."

_You're worried, my foot. _

"The king is no where to be found. We will search."

Merlin opened his mouth to argue… He wasn't sure what he wanted to say. But then his eyes caught on something by the bed. On the floor, several splotches were spread out, and when he narrowed his eyes, Merlin recognized them for what they were: bloodstains.

Arthur's blood, or an attacker's? Merlin couldn't be sure, but the cold pool in his stomach made him think that it was his master's.

Agravaine was talking, jerking Merlin back into reality. "You're his servant," he was saying. "Surely if anyone has any clues to his whereabouts, you do?"

Merlin blinked. "I don't know anything. He would have told me if he was going somewhere…" Which was pretty much a lie. Maybe once upon a time, but since Arthur had become king, he had realized that he could do what he wanted and only tell whom he pleased. If he pleased.

But leaving without any notice at all? For the amount of time it took for everywhere to be searched? That wasn't like Arthur.

Some thing was wrong. Merlin didn't know how he knew, but his gut told him something was wrong. And his gut was rarely wrong.

Agravaine nodded. "We will widen our search. I fear the only way the king could avoid detection so long is by transportation through sorcery… Or if he doesn't want to be found."

Merlin's eyes found the bloodstains again. No, no matter what Agravaine said, Arthur wasn't hiding. That didn't compute. Merlin knew a few places around Camelot that he would search… And then he would accept what he already knew, that some harm had befallen his master. And Agravaine was the main suspect.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur wasn't hiding in Gwen's house and sulking. He wasn't in the woods near where the unicorn had come back to life. He wasn't standing on a tower or on top of the wall overlooking Camelot. Merlin was running out of places to look, and in desperation, he checked in the physician's chambers and his own room. He didn't think Arthur would be in there, but there was always the off chance.

At last he had to admit that he had lost his king. At least those bells had stopped ringing.

Merlin sighed, and grabbed a heavy sack from under his bed, beginning to throw things inside.

"Merlin, what do you think you're doing?"

Merlin looked up at Gaius in the doorway. "Packing," he said.

"I can see that, but why?"

"I'm going looking for Arthur," Merlin replied easily, climbing to his feet. He didn't have a change of shoes, but he'd thrown his other shirt and neckerchief into the bag. "I should bring bandages in case he's injured," he said, walking towards the door to the outer chambers so he could grab some out of Gaius's wares.

The old man trailed behind the warlock. "Where do you plan to look?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Merlin. "I plan to check for any clues in his room, and if that fails…" He shrugged. "I may ask Agravaine."

"Merlin," warned Gaius immediately. "Don't be rash. You don't want to push Agravaine… He could be a dangerous enemy."

"He already is," Merlin pointed out. Then he turned back to Gaius, having grabbed several herbs and bandages from the shelves. "Goodbye, Gaius. I'll be back." He gave the physician a quick hug and was out the door before he could hear another protest.

**\-_-BREAK-_-/**

Merlin leant over the drops of blood, sitting on the floor next to them. He'd already tried several spells on them, after checking to be sure that no one was around. He was reasonably certain that the blood had come from Arthur, which was a fact that he did not like at all. However, it didn't reveal anything about what had happened.

Merlin sighed and looked around the chambers. He could sense magic in here, and not just his own. _His_ magic was always floating around in here, naturally, from old spells. But this was different—it tasted different, and seemed malicious. He couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't like it.

Merlin sighed and stood up straight. How was he supposed to search if he didn't even know where to start? He bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists.

The door opened behind him, and he jumped, spinning around.

It was Gwaine, followed by Leon, and then Elyan and Percival.

"Oh," said Merlin, "it's you."

"What're you up to?" asked Gwaine suspiciously, coming forward.

"Looking for clues," replied Merlin immediately, sighing. The knights' eyes drifted down to his bag and back to Merlin.

"You're going to go looking for the king," Leon guessed immediately.

"By yourself?" Elyan said with surprise. "How do you even know where to look?"

"I don't," said Merlin. "But he's not in Camelot and he can't just be _nowhere._" He pushed past the knights, not really concerned with any of them at the moment. But he didn't get far into the hall before Gwaine caught up.

"I want to come too," said Gwaine.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that…"

"No offense, Merlin, but you know you aren't much with a sword, and you might need me," Gwaine said, his manner offensive – but then, that wasn't unusual. Gwaine _lived_ off of being offensive.

The other knights followed up behind him, looking – Merlin was sure – quite imposing. They were all big and tall in their chain mail, with their swords. Merlin was not impressed. "Fine," Merlin said. "Gwaine can come, but that's it. The rest of you will want to stay and make sure Agravaine's search party doesn't fail miserably anyway."

"Where are you going to search?" Percival said, looking bewildered, his forehead drawing together.

"Somewhere," said Merlin, not feeling up to explaining. For heaven's sake, Arthur was in trouble! Why were they even still standing around? "I hope we find him soon." He nodded to Leon, Elyan, and Percival, then turned on his heel and began to speed-walk.

"You're worried," Gwaine said, right next to Merlin's shoulder, walking quickly to keep up with him.

Merlin nodded tightly. Worried? He felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Arthur was gone, and Merlin didn't know where to find him, and he was in the same place as that dangerous magic… He shuddered.

"Alright, Gwaine," Merlin said. "Usually I wouldn't ask this, but if you're going to come with me, then you can't ask questions. I know what I'm doing."

"Really?" Gwaine looked like he didn't believe it, flipping his hair out of his face.

**\-_-BREAK-_-/**

Merlin found Agravaine alone, which was good. He was standing right outside his chambers, straightening his clothes in a way that seemed to be a family trait—Arthur always did the same, and Uther used to adjust his gloves all the time.

Merlin left Gwaine back a bit inside a small alcove in the wall, telling him to stay put and shut up, not to do anything. Gwaine looked suspicious but agreed.

"Lord Agravaine," Merlin said, walking right up to the man.

Agravaine smiled, a little slimily. "Ah!" he said. "I don't suppose you've remembered anything about the king's whereabouts?"

"Where's Arthur?"

"I'm sorry…"

"Where is he? What have you done with him?" Merlin felt his hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms. His head was screaming that he was crazy. His gut was telling him not to look away, to look Agravaine right in the eyes.

Agravaine looked politely baffled. "I don't know what you mean."

"Fine. What has _Morgana_ done with him?"

A smirk quirked on the older man's face before he wiped it away. "Are you accusing me of being in association with…? The king said you didn't trust me, but honestly." His kind smile faded as he added, "You could be arrested for that."

Merlin waited five seconds in silence. He kept his eyes locked on Agravaine's. He was angry. Angrier than he usually was at Agravaine, since Arthur's uncle usually only served to annoy him or frustrate him. After those five seconds were up, he looked away. _I don't think he knows. _

He turned and walked away. Merlin kept his posture upright, aware that he was turning his back on the enemy, but Agravaine let him go, staring after him.

Merlin's face was stormy as he walked down the hall, and picked Gwaine back up and kept walking.

"What was that about?" Gwaine asked in confusion.

"I might tell you later," said Merlin. "One more place to check," he said. "And it's not in the city."

\-_-BREAK-_-/

Morgana wasn't in her "hovel," as she called it. And unfortunately, Arthur wasn't either.

Gwaine wanted to know what this place was. Merlin told him it was a bad memory and dragged him out of the hut. He looked around quickly for Arthur, but when he didn't see heads or tails of him, he beat a hasty retreat. He didn't want to have a showdown with Morgana right now.

"Now what?" asked Gwaine as they walked away.

"Now we just start looking," Merlin told him. "We look for clues. We have to find Arthur within a few days."

"Why the limit?" asked Gwaine, again violating his promise not to ask questions. Merlin was okay with that at the moment though.

Merlin picked a direction and began to march through the forest. "Besides the danger he's probably in? Well, if we leave Camelot without leadership for too long, it's open for attack. And I don't trust Agravaine to make the right decisions. If Gwen was still in Camelot, she would call him out, but since she's not, I'll have to trust that Gaius will keep things going…"

He paused as what he just said sank in.

"Oh, gods," he said, closing his eyes. "Asking Gaius to defy authority. Let's find Arthur quickly."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Before you get angry about the Gaius comment, mostly kidding there. Anyway. I don't like this chapter too much (I feel that Merlin is OOC in his worriedness, which is NOT a word), but everything had to get started. I want to get to Arthur next chapter, so I wanted to get this all out of the way. **


	4. Chapter 4

When Arthur came to, he wasn't exactly aware. He couldn't tell where he was, and for the life of him, he couldn't have told where his hands and feet were. He only knew he was no longer unconscious because the darkness around him turned to a dark gray, as though there was light somewhere nearby. He knew he was cold. He had the knowledge that he was being moved—pretty much pushed, and none too gently. He thought he might have been getting somewhere partly under his own power, though; was he walking?

He sank lower into himself for a few moments to allow him to regroup. The fuzziness of his mind eventually began to fade, and he realized that he was being manhandled, made to walk. Somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but from the way his feet slapped against the ground and the slight echoing nature of the sounds of his own footsteps, he thought he was inside. Perhaps a castle. And though his memory wasn't working well yet, he knew that he wasn't among friends.

Alright, he could deal with that.

Arthur kept moving, keeping his body limp so no one would realize that he wasn't still in a state of unawareness. It wasn't easy, since the walking was probably what had woken him up in the first place. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and look around.

He waited until he was stopped and he heard something creaking—a door. The sounds made the hackles on his neck rise, and he tried not to shudder.

"Alright," said a voice in front of him. "Throw him in."

Arthur made his move. His eyes flew open, and he had about half a second to get his surroundings; all he saw was gray and at least three men. When the two people on either side of him tried to throw him forward, he threw himself back.

They were so shocked that he was suddenly moving under his own power that he slipped from their hands, but Arthur was so off-balance that he nearly fell to the ground. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, feeling them grappling at his arms already. Arthur yanked away, landing a blow on one of their faces.

They were the same men, he distantly realized. They'd attacked him in his room. But they didn't look like his knights anymore.

The man he hit fell back but the other struck Arthur in the stomach, knocking his breath away. Arthur hit him twice; once in the face and the other time in the chest. The man didn't fall back, but tried to hit Arthur back. Arthur ducked, only to have someone behind him wrap his arms around Arthur's middle and try to pull him away. Arthur elbowed him.

It didn't do any good, though, all his struggling. Arthur didn't even get the chance to run. One of the man succeeded in pressing him against the stone wall, knocking his head back. Things went a bit blurry, and then someone hit him across the face. Pain seared through him, leaving his face sore. And then someone hit him again, and he gave a small cry and bit his tongue. He tried to pull forward. His arms were pinned to his side. His left hand throbbed; it was broken, how had he forgotten?

He kept struggling, though, desperate to get free. And the blows kept coming. He couldn't get away.

At last he heard a voice say, "Stand aside, this is easier."

The blows stopped, but Arthur felt a sudden sense of fear that let him know something was coming. It was an instinct he'd picked up from years of fighting. _Something was coming. Move. _

He couldn't move.

Something cold and harder than a fist hit his lower arm, and Arthur heard the crack. His head jerked back in surprise and pain, and he felt a scream tear out of his throat. In that moment, all the energy of battle drained from his system, and he felt blackness drop like a blanket over his eyes again.

**\-_-BREAK-_-/**

Once they had disposed of Arthur inside of the dungeon, the men gathered outside.

The one who had once been Percival's double spoke up first. "He's strong." He rubbed his jaw.

"What would you expect of the Once and Future King?" replied the man who was not Leon. "Of course he is."

"Of course he's strong," the Once-Percival said. "But what if he is too strong, and he won't tell us…?"

The one who had looked like Gwaine jumped in. "We have time, and we won't accept no. Don't worry, he'll tell us who this Emrys is before we're done. This close to the prophecy being fulfilled, it has to be someone he knows."

Once-Percival still looked doubtful. "I suppose."

Once-Leon patted him on the arm. "You worry too much, Samuel. We've already got the Once and Future King. After we dispose of him, we'll find Emrys as well. She'll be pleased."


	5. Chapter 5

It was nearly a full day of worried walking before Merlin and Gwaine chanced upon someone who knew something.

The older man stood out in front of his little cottage, and waved when he saw them coming. Merlin gave him a brief smile as they drew closer, and Gwaine raised his arm in a choppy short of wave.

"Same question again?" Gwaine suggested to Merlin, smiling. Of course. They'd asked everyone they'd come across the same questions.

"Good morning," Merlin said. "Have you seen anyone unusual passing by? A blond man, maybe, or someone headed towards or away from Camelot?"

"Good morning," the man replied, coming forward. "Why? Are you looking for someone?"

Merlin nodded. "My friend. But I don't know where's he's gone, so we're trying to track him."

"A knight, trying to track him?" The man looked over Gwaine suspiciously. "Must be a pretty important friend."

"He is," Merlin agreed immediately.

The old man seemed to think this over, rubbing his white head. Gwaine was jumpy and impatient, wanting to demand the man tell what he knew _now_, but Merlin gestured for him to stand down.

"I haven't seen a blond man," said the man, "but for unusual people headed towards Camelot, I saw some members of the Mortdestin."

"Some what?"

"They're a little like Druids," the man said. "But not as peaceful, I suppose. Anyway, that's unusual, isn't it? Druid people – three men, to be exact – passing by on their way to Camelot? I wondered to myself, what does a Druid want to go to Camelot for?"

Merlin nodded. "What for?" he agreed. Druids but less peaceful? Was this man telling the truth, and if so, why hadn't Merlin ever heard of them?

"I thought they might be up to something, since Mortdestin always are. But I decided just to let them go past without…"

"How long ago was that?" Merlin called.

"About a day ago? Two?" The man looked confused.

Merlin thought this over. About the right timeframe.

"Thank you, sir," called Gwaine, seeing that Merlin was too deep in thought to think of saying it. He tossed the man a coin – why not? – took his friend by the arm, and led him away.

They went back into the woods, still walking. "Merlin?" Gwaine ventured at last. "Are you awake in there, mate?"

Merlin looked up at him and nodded. "That's the most useful information we've gotten all day. I've never heard of Mortdestin."

Gwaine nodded. "And what are we going to do with the useful information?"

Merlin's eyebrows rose.

"Well, it's not like the old man gave us directions or anything."

"No, you're right," agreed Merlin. "Here's what we're going to do: sleep."

"What?"

"It's getting dark anyway," Merlin said, looking around at the trees. "We should stop for the night. Can't look if we can't see anything."

Gwaine looked surprised. He'd just assumed that Merlin would look until he fell over from exhaustion. But Gwaine had promised not to ask questions – though he had no intention of keeping that promise, really, honor code or no – so he just nodded. "Alright," Gwaine said. "We don't have any blankets or anything, though."

Merlin shrugged. "We're roughing it until we find the king."

"Ah."

* * *

><p>Merlin waited until Gwaine was sleeping on the uncomfortable, rocky ground before he got up and snuck away to talk to the dragon.<p>

Once he found a field big enough, he called out to the Great Dragon, sat back, and waited.

Soon enough he felt the air pressure changing around him as giant wings beat down, letting Kilgharrah land down beside Merlin. The dragon tilted his head up and gave what might have been a draconic smile.

"Young warlock," he greeted Merlin. "It has been a while. What manner of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

Merlin sighed. "Arthur's missing."

"You've lost the king," the dragon said, sounding slightly amused.

"No, he disappeared," Merlin said. "Almost without a trace. He just left some small bloodstains on his floor, and I know magic was involved. Otherwise, I don't know where to look."

Kilgharrah arched his neck. "Then what do you know, young warlock?"

"I did talk to a man, who said that some members of some Druid group called the Mortdestin had passed by at about the same time—"

Kilgharrah interrupted by letting out a puff of air as he jerked back. "The Mortdestin?" he repeated. "They are no Druid group, Merlin, and if they are your foes, I fear your situation is grave."

Merlin was getting used to the half-statements and riddles the dragon loved to spout. "What are they, then?"

"They are the opposite of a Druid, the death of destiny."

"Lovely," said Merlin. "But Arthur is in trouble, so please, speak plainly."

"They are a faction that has broken off from the Druids. But where the Druids are peaceful, hold the prophecies, and are only interested in facilitating destiny, the Mortdestin do not believe that prophecies will make the world better. Rather, they believe that fate should be thwarted by any means possible."

"Why haven't I ever heard of them?"

"They are a small but active group," the dragon told him. "You never came across them before."

"But what does this have to do with…"

"If the Mortdestin have discovered of your destiny as Emrys or Arthur's as the Once and Future King, then the king is in great danger."

Merlin felt something a little like pain but a lot closer to fear take up residence in his chest. It pushed out the worry that had just been in there before as he searched for Arthur. "What will they do? Kilgharrah? What will they do if they have him and they know who he is?" Merlin knew the answer, but he had to hear it aloud, and he couldn't say it himself.

The world stood still just for Merlin's benefit until the dragon answered, ducking his head, "They will kill him."

The fear solidified. Merlin took a deep breath. "Where can I find them? Where do they stay? I need to find them quickly, Kilgharrah!"

The dragon nodded his head. "Indeed you do, young warlock. Very quickly."


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings: Violence.** **Not extreme or graphic, but there. **

Arthur came to eventually. He really couldn't say when it was. He was in a dungeon, he knew that right away. After all, he'd been in enough of them to know immediately.

But this wasn't Camelot. He doubted it was Escetia. This place was slightly larger than either, with a barred door positioned down the wall so he couldn't see through it. Where was he, then?

Arthur moved on, mentally assessing his position. He was chained up to the wall. Only one of his arms was, though; the one that was whole, his left one. His right limb, with the broken hand and arm – or at least they felt that way, from the swelling and pain shooting up them – was free. Not that it mattered, since he could hardly use it to escape.

He was sitting down, so seeing his feet took some maneuvering. Both had cuffs around them, but the chain was long, so he could stretch out if he chose to do so.

The chains spoke loud and clear. The message was: _you can't escape._

Not right now, anyway.

He was also a little hungry, but his arm was causing him enough pain to nauseate him, so at the same time he thought he would be sick if he ate a thing. He winced. Then he pushed the thought aside and began to concoct as many plans for escape and/or rescue as he could, thinking that _one_ might come in handy.

He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. At the other end of the dungeon the door was indeed slowly creaking open, and a man's bony hand was pushing it. _Well, _thought Arthur, _I can get some answers there. _

Despite how hard he was trying to stay confident, he could feel his assurances draining right out of those chains. He wouldn't say he was afraid (no, of course he wouldn't)—he was _cautious_. He sat up straighter and eyed the door distrustfully.

Then, in an instant, it hit him that he knew that hand.

He didn't have time to process that before the rest of the thin man was in the room, and Arthur unintentionally sagged in his chains. He recognized the man, alright; he'd know him with his eyes closed. He'd spent the better part of six years with him, after all.

Merlin.

How the heck had Merlin gotten here? What was he doing? Had he just walked in the place and right through the dungeon's door? Arthur would think that ridiculous if that wasn't _just_ the sort of thing Merlin would do.

"Merlin?" he said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. The tightness inside of him seemed to dissolve a bit.

Merlin rushed forward, feet slapping against the stone floor as he made his way to the king. "Arthur!" he said, looking Arthur up and down quickly, as though looking at the chains and injuries.

Arthur tried not to smile. "Can you get me out of these?" he asked Merlin, shrugging the unhurt arm.

Merlin's eyes followed the movement. "Give me your arm," he said.

Arthur obeyed, lifting the heavy, chained thing and trying to hold it out for Merlin as best he could. Merlin didn't take it, though.

"No," he said. "Your other one."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together in a perplexed expression. Merlin could see it was broken, couldn't he? But Arthur was too fuzzy and confused to argue, so he figured Merlin would explain soon enough. Still watching in confusion, he attempted to lift that arm. It hurt to move it, but luckily his shoulder was whole. He managed it, flinching, and the arm finally made it into the air. Merlin took it by the wrist.

Arthur hissed. That _hurt_. "Careful…" he said.

Merlin didn't loosen his grip, just looked at Arthur with glinting eyes, and he asked, "Who is Emrys?"

"What?" What language was he speaking? That sentence didn't make any sense to Arthur, but his arm still hurt, and Merlin needed to be more careful—

Merlin lifted his hand, the one not holding Arthur's broken limb, and his hand curled into a fist. Arthur watched uncomprehendingly.

"Who is Emrys?"

"Wha—?"

Merlin's fist crashed into the broken arm. Arthur cut himself off, screaming from the sudden onslaught of unexpected pain. "Don't!"

Merlin's fist hit the arm again. He wasn't being gentle, and Arthur cried out again. "What are you _doing_?"

"Who is Emrys?"

"I don't know what you're talking about… Have you lost your mi – Argh!"

"Just tell me who and where Emrys is." Merlin's face was creased in a way that Arthur didn't recognize, a look of twisted anger and rage. The fist was drawn back again.

Panicked, Arthur jerked, trying to get his crushed arm away from his friend. _Merlin… Merlin, why…? _The pain from the movement made it all go fuzzy, but Arthur didn't care. He didn't want his broken limb hit again. He couldn't let that happen again.

"Oh, no, you don't," Merlin hissed in a voice that Arthur hadn't ever heard him use, and the man's eyes flashed gold. Suddenly everything grew clearer, and the buzz in his head went away, but the pain didn't lessen at all.

Arthur had given his arm to Merlin's grasp, and now he couldn't get away.

But it wasn't really Merlin, was it? It just looked like Merlin.

The fist careened into him again, and Arthur screamed from the raw agony. His arm was becoming more and more damaged; it would probably never work the same again. He tried again to scoot back, pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

Merlin would never do this. And Merlin didn't have magic. It wasn't Merlin, just magic.

Right?

It was like the knights who captured him. Sorcerers. And Merlin wasn't hitting his broken arm, making him cry out.

"Who is Emyrs?" _Bam_.

_Right? _If he was so convinced, why did he feel betrayed?

Arthur grunted and bit his lip as hard as he could bear, desperately determined to keep his whimpers in his body.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said as calmly as he could manage. "I don't know any… Emrys. I don't know what you want. I don't _know_."

But the Merlin-man didn't believe him.


	7. Chapter 7

It took the dragon several hours to locate where he thought the hideout of the Mortdestin was. He had to look for people with the correct markings, first and then follow their movement, but he couldn't be seen. He told Merlin that it was a very complicated process. Merlin tried to look sympathetic, but he didn't really care. As long as they found Arthur.

At last it was located and Merlin was pretty sure he knew the direction on how to get there. It wasn't quite a castle, but a rather large house, Kilgharrah told him. And a good deal of it seemed to be underground. He described it so that Merlin would hopefully recognize the place. But once they reached it, getting in would be up to Gwaine and Merlin.

"And now, young warlock," the dragon said, leaning close. "I will leave you, because morning draws close, and I believe you have many questions to answer before then."

Merlin's triumphant smile faded and his eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean by that?" he said.

The dragon simply looked pointedly behind Merlin and rose up on his haunches, flapping and pulling up from the ground.

Merlin jerked around, his eyes going wide. Then he looked back to Kilgharrah. "Wait!"

But Kilgharrah was already gone. Merlin bit his lip hard and turned back to the woods behind him. He'd already spotted what the dragon had been referring to in the trees, and now he was just trying to comfort himself that the Great Dragon would not leave him if there were danger.

"Alright," he called, resigned. "Come out, Gwaine."

Gwaine stumbled from the woods, his hair in disarray and his sword out. But it just hung limply by his side; it didn't look as though Gwaine planned on killing him or anything. And that was a plus.

Gwaine looked him in the eyes, and he croaked with a flabbergasted expression, "A dragon?"

"Yeah," Merlin said, shrugging. "My father was a dragonlord."

"Magic?" Gwaine said, raising his eyebrows. "That's illegal, isn't it?"

"No," Merlin said, grasping at straws as Gwaine took several steps forward. It wasn't too late for someone to end up dead. "Being a dragonlord isn't magic. It's just… close. Arthur even asked a dragonlord for help once! That was my father… He died… But the point remains the same."

"That dragon called you _young warlock_."

Merlin pursed his lips. "Well, yes, he did. And people think _I_ can't keep secrets."

Gwaine stared at Merlin in disbelief for a second—and then he began to crack up like that was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He put his sword up and laughed, patting Merlin on the shoulder. At last he wiped tears from his eyes and looked at Merlin. "Alright," he said. "Now, assuming that you haven't just lost your mind and decided to be evil, there must be a reason you use magic and Uther was wrong about it. That's not surprising." He grinned a little. "The old king was wrong about a lot of things. I just have one question before we go on our merry way and you explain everything to me."

Merlin's head was spinning. This was going too fast. Gwaine was okay with this? He didn't even sound all that surprised. He wished the knight would slow down… "What?" he asked.

Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Were you the old man who knocked us all out in the forest and told me I had ale in my ears?"

Merlin swallowed. "Oh," he said. "That."

* * *

><p>"No luck," Claude told Samuel as he walked down the hall, the guide of Merlin slipping off of his limbs. He lifted his real, burly arms and began to strip off the black leather gloves he'd worn.<p>

"I still say he's too strong," Samuel said. "But what choice do we have but to try? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to report to her," Claude said, not stopping.

"But we have nothing to tell her!"

"Maybe she'll have suggestions. She needs to know it will take us a while…"

"Why are you bothering her with this?" Samuel said, looking uncomfortable. "Aren't you the one who thinks we can make him talk by ourselves?"

Claude, who had once looked like Leon, shrugged. "I thought the sight of his servant and friend betraying him would at least rattle him a bit more. We can make him talk… if we want to be here for weeks. And I would like to see my wife within the month, I don't know about you."

Samuel sighed unhappily and followed Claude down a flight of stairs until they reached her room at last. Claude stopped by the door, brushing his dark hair down and clearing his throat before knocking on the door. There was no answer.

"Maybe she's sleeping," said Samuel.

Claude knocked again.

"A moment!" came the voice from within.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal the brown-haired woman within the room. "Good morning, Claude, Samuel," she said. Her hair was damp, and she was still twisting it over her shoulder into a braid. Her face was angular, with high cheekbones and lips that turned up, which nullified her slightly sharp appearance. Her gray eyes met the men's unfalteringly. "I trust you have good news for me? He has told you about Emrys?"

"No," said Claude. "That's why we came to you. He… won't tell us. He keeps insisting he doesn't know anything."

"Pendragons are such liars," she said sadly. "It's a shame. So you are still working on him? Here, come in."

"I don't mean to disturb you…" Claude started.

"No fear!" she said pleasantly. "I understand. Come in, both of you." She waltzed inside the room, and the men said down at her direction on two wooden chairs. She perched on her bed, pulling on her tunic. "So, tell me what the problem is."

"We just think that the way we're going about this is going to take too long," Claude said.

"Longer than you wanted it to," Samuel added quickly.

"The king is very strong," Claude told her. "We just wanted to tell you that… It might take longer than we wanted before we got back home. That's all." He winced at his cowardice.

Her delicate face fell. "I'm very disappointed," she said. He nearly cried. That's what he'd been afraid of. "And I imagine my father will be, too, when it takes us too long to come back." Claude and Samuel both stiffened. That's what they had been _really_ afraid of.

She stood and thought this over. "Well," she said. "If it takes long, it just does. All the same, I think I should do what I can to speed up the process. I will oversee everything."

Claude objected. "Ma'am," he said. "Vera, ma'am, please. Your father wouldn't want you…"

She waved away the protest. "My father put me in charge. So in charge I will be. Maybe I'll have an idea!"

Claude and Samuel looked at each other and sighed, sinking back into their chairs.

"Cheer up, boys," she said blithely. "He'll talk."


	8. Chapter 8

This dungeon was too big. Arthur didn't like it.

When Merlin – no, _the man_, he couldn't think of him as _Merlin_ or he'd go insane – left the room, Arthur curled up as well as he could, wanting his knees in front of him for protection. This dungeon was too large; there were too many things it could be full of.

He knew – in theory – that there was nothing out there, and that as long as he was alone, he was safe. But he didn't think he believed it. After all, a week ago he would've said he was safe with just Merlin—

No! Not Merlin! He pulled his head up sharply and positioned himself again so that his busted arm had some minor protection.

Yes, the dungeon was too big: it left too much room for thinking.

And concerning thinking… _Who _is_ Emrys?_ He wondered it to himself, shaking his head. Who was this person that M- _the man_ thought Arthur should know about, while he'd never before heard the word? He didn't know… but he didn't believe that. He was so sure that Arthur knew.

Was it a code name? An alias? First name? Surname?

Maybe it was better not to know, he tried to tell himself. But he knew he (they?) hadn't given up yet, and they really wanted to know—they'd ask again. The thought made his limbs tremble and his stomach clench. He tried to move his body around his arm more, but the chains wouldn't allow it. He took several deep breaths to force himself to be calm.

_I could lie,_ he realized with a spark of hope. _I could make something up, they might not know… I could just give them a name, any name… and… _And then "Emrys" would probably undergo the same treatment as Arthur was. And who would Arthur be willing to subject to that? Gaius, Merlin, Gwaine? No, Arthur wouldn't wish this imprisonment on his enemies, let alone his friends.

The spark of hope sputtered out unceremoniously. Arthur slumped forward. There was nothing for it, then.

The door opened. Arthur's arm, already unreasonably painful, gave a warning throb. His heart rate sped up, but he didn't look up. Not yet. He tried to pretend he hadn't heard it.

Footsteps. He studied the stones beneath his feet.

Then they stopped, and there was silence.

He lasted about five seconds, and at last he had to look up. He forced a hot glare on his face, and the first figure he saw was that of a girl, probably a little younger than he was. She met his glower evenly, then turned to the man next to her – who, to Arthur's immense relief, looked like no one he recognized – and said, "He is still chained, isn't he?"

The man walked over (Arthur tensed), checked quickly, and nodded. "He's contained."

"Good," said the woman, clapping her hands together and then rubbing them for warmth. "So, you're Arthur Pendragon?" She smiled a little tightly. "Of course you are."

Arthur didn't ask for her name. He didn't want to know.

"I understand you've been giving Claude a bit of trouble, stubborn Pendragon pride." She walked towards him and bent over so that he could hear her even if she spoke low. He stared up at her without blinking. "But it's just a simple question, and it would be so easy just to tell me: Who is Emrys? Where is he, what does he do—who is he?"

He sighed. "I don't know an Emrys." His voice was weak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. He had to make her understand. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I have never heard that name—if it is even a name."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together. "That's not possible," she told him. "You are King Arthur, the Once and Future King… You have to know. Prophecies don't go askew by themselves."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he argued back.

She stepped away from him, gritting her teeth. "Alright," she said to the large man. "Tell Samuel to bring it in."

The man went to the door and gestured, and another (Samuel?) came in, dragging a metal object with him—it stood like a pedestal, and it looked heavy. A red glow emitted from the middle of it in a bowl – coal and embers – and several long pokers stuck from the center. Just their tips were white-red hot, and the outer part of the pokers could be handled.

Arthur had to close his eyes for a moment.

She turned back to Arthur, her face solemn. "I am a member," she told him, "of a group called Mortdestin. Our purpose is to ensure that prophecies are not fulfilled… We believe that would be disastrous to the order of things. And you, King Arthur Pendragon, have a destiny—a destiny to unite the kingdoms in a new era. But you won't do it alone. You will be helped. By Emrys, a powerful sorcerer. Ringing any bells?"

"No," he said, as calmly as he could manage. Why wouldn't she listen? "I do not condone the use of magic."

"So I've heard," she told him, and this time she smiled a little. "But a prophecy is a prophecy."

Arthur spared a glance at the hot pokers and his throat nearly closed itself off for pure fear. He had to stall for time. "How do you know so much about me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"We've been watching. We've known who you were for a while." She gave that tight-lipped mirthless smile again, the one that was borderline sympathetic. "All it takes is getting the right people to ask the right Druids."

"For how long? Is that how you know who…?"

"Your friends are?"

He thought of Merlin's look alike and tried valiantly not to shudder.

She nodded and continued, "Yes, that's how we know."

"Then you have to know that I don't know an Emrys?"

"Why would you have him out in the open if magic is illegal? You are King Arthur Pendragon," she said, finally looking peeved. "You must know who Emrys is… He's in all the prophecy! If you just tell us, it will make it easier on you!" She stopped herself and took a deep breath, the red that had flown to her cheeks beginning to fade.

Arthur sat back. If all they wanted was to destroy "destiny", and he was apparently some Once and Future King, that meant this would only end one way—they would kill him. And once they found Emrys, him too. He was only alive now because he wouldn't tell them who Emrys was.

But he didn't want to die anyway. He couldn't leave Camelot without a king. Or did he? He sent a look towards the hot pokers. He might want to shortly. But it didn't look like he had a choice in the matter, unless he was willing to die and willing to condemn another to die with him. And he wasn't.

He looked up at the girl – she really was a young woman, with large eyes and brown hair in a braid, not put up – and shook his head.

She sighed. She'd expected that. "Well," she said, turning away. "You've doubtless wondered how we can turn into people you know. It's a useful spell—I invented it, actually. It's helped my group keep tabs on you. It's very tricky, but I and the men you've met so far have mastered it. That's why we were chosen for this."

Arthur watched her closely, sitting up straighter and pulling his legs in, making himself smaller without being obvious.

She was now facing the corner away from him, and he could only see half of her face and the shape of her figure. Then she spoke a word, and with horror he observed her change. Her hair shortened and grew dark and curly; her nose flattened; her bosom grew and the shape of her hips shifted. It all took place in a second, and then she was someone else entirely.

His eyes went wide. "Guinevere," he gasped out—he couldn't help himself. Dread pooled in his middle.

_No. _

Guinevere's body turned fully toward him, with that sad, sorry, tiny little smile that looked just like her.

_No, please, anything but this…_

He nearly opened his mouth to say just that, to ask that this not happen, not Guinevere, not Gwen, but he stopped himself with some difficulty. His breathing grew faster and more frantic, but not one sound escaped him.

The girl-turned-Guinevere strolled across the room in her stolen shape and picked up the not-heated end of the poker, holding up the glowing end so it could be easily seen.

Arthur bit his lip. He was trying to prepare himself, but how the hell could he be prepared for _this_?

_Not as his Guinevere… _

The girl crossed the distance between them in a second, and then she seemed to hesitate. And dear heavens, she looked just like Gwen when she was hesitating.

Then she shook it off.

The first touch of the searing heat, right on his collarbone above the laces of his shirt, got a low, moaning sort of grunt from him. But the second time the poker touched his skin, fizzling, he couldn't hold it in again and he screamed. The sound filled the chambers and bounced off the walls, but at that point he could barely tell where it had come from anymore. It was all just heat and pain.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I actually feel pretty bad about that... Hm. Poor Arthur. He really needs a hug.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Which way did the dragon say from here?" Gwaine asked as they came to a fork in the road.

Merlin rubbed his eyes. "The left," he answered, pointing, but then he drew his hand back in to cover his mouth as he yawned. He blinked. "Sorry," he said.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Gwaine asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Merlin's brow furrowed as he concentrated and then shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I waited until you were asleep to go talk to the dragon. Then I was telling you about… everything…" Well, mostly everything. Merlin would keep his secrets, such as Freya. Gwaine just wouldn't understand.

Gwaine nodded. "No wonder you look so awful. Maybe you should stop to rest?"

Merlin shook his head. "I can sleep after we get Arthur back."

He kept steadily plugging on, taking the left way and walking right past Gwaine. "How much farther is this fortress or whatever it is we're breaking into?"

Merlin shrugged. "I'm not sure. Hours more of walking."

"Wonderful," said Gwaine. "I don't suppose you know a spell that would speed us on our way?"

Merlin didn't answer, and so Gwaine stopped checking out the foliage around them long enough to glance in Merlin's direction. He probably hadn't heard a thing. The warlock was stumbling along, nearly off the road, with his head down in his chest and his eyes probably closed. Gwaine gave a short laugh as he closed the distance between them and straightened Merlin's course, holding onto his shoulders to give Merlin some support.

"Yes, my friend," he said. "I can see you are a very dangerous all-powerful sorcerer."

Merlin mumbled something unintelligible.

* * *

><p>Arthur put his head down on his knees and wrapped one arm around himself as best he could, the other arm hanging limply from his side.<p>

He hurt all over. His chest and arm were the worst; his arm throbbed from the break, and his chest ached from the burns, including the spot where his shirt had caught on fire. He wished he didn't have to be in his own body anymore.

He kept his eyes closed, glad he couldn't see anything. He tried to focus on that nothingness behind his eyelids and make it the only thing on his mind, because he knew if he was thinking, he'd be focusing on the fiery pain, or on the one thought in his head that scared him more than anything:

_They'll come back. _

He shuddered, and his arm protested. He was scared, so scared that his eyes pricked and threatened to fill again, but he had already cried enough. He couldn't believe he'd done that, and the embarrassment was just another thing that was eating at him. But he had cried, and he could feel the tears dried on his cheeks.

Arthur wondered if someone who'd never had a mother could really want her there.

* * *

><p>They kept walking until Merlin's knees gave out underneath him and he collapsed. He tried to get back up, but Gwaine sighed and pushed him back to the ground. "No, Merlin," he said. "You're no good this way, you've been walking for nearly two days. Take a nap."<p>

Merlin was too tired to argue, and he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Gwaine sighed and put his arms beneath Merlin, lifting him so that he could move the slumbering man off the road.

Then he looked in the direction they'd been heading and sighed. He might not show it as much, but he figured he was about as worried over Arthur as Merlin was. He too would have liked to go without stopping. But he had to be practical; to save Arthur, Merlin needed to be aware.

Putting Merlin down in some grass that didn't have too many root knots or fallen objects, Gwaine leant back against a tree and waited.

_Just hold on a bit longer, Arthur. We'll find you._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, boring chapter of nothingness happening, but Merlin needed that nap and I needed them taking the journey, so that's why this chapter is here but short. Anyway, I'll have a better one next time. Things are about to happen!**

**Happy day before New Year's/Colin Morgan's birthday. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, I spent some time deciding how I actually want to end this. It might go on a bit longer than I thought at first, but hopefully not too long, because people would get bored with me. I can tell you this: it won't just be rescue-Arthur-then-the-end. Also, I think you might like to know some of what is coming. Merlin's liable to get a bit dark in this story… Not Dark!Merlin dark, but perhaps a wee bit darker than, say, his ka-pow in the finale. Arthur's not going to just sit around in that dungeon the entire story, but he's not going to be doing a lot of the really heroic stuff. Gwaine will probably continue to be in the story. Some of the other knights might make appearances, but they won't take the focus. Also, there will not be real!Gwen in this story, because I always intended for this to take place somewhere in between 4.09 and 4.11. That, in my opinion, makes the fake!Gwen worse.**

**Okay, blurb of spoilage there but I thought you might be interested in knowing. Again, not TOO long, but longer than I originally thought.**

* * *

><p>Merlin slept five hours, and long before the end of that time, Gwaine was chomping at the metaphorical bit. So he stood and took a walk, hoping to find something useful.<p>

And he did.

* * *

><p>When Merlin woke up, Gwaine stood over him, smiling. Merlin thought that was suspicious—until he sat up and saw that Gwaine was holding onto the reins of two horses. Then he thought it was <em>really<em> suspicious.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, standing and rubbing his eyes.

"There is a small farm nearby," Gwaine told him. "With horses."

"How'd you get the horses?" When there was no immediate answer, Merlin said, "Gwaine, did you steal them?"

"No," Gwaine defended himself. "I borrowed them."

"With permission?"

"Yes, Merlin—the farmer told me I could borrow them. Apparently knights of Camelot are trustworthy. Also, I gave him the few coins on me. And he gave me a loaf of bread, but he doesn't want that back." Gwaine grinned and tossed Merlin a piece of bread. "I already ate my half," he said, and that was all it took to get Merlin to inhale the sustenance.

"Come on, then," said Gwaine, gesturing towards the horse, and Merlin scrambled up. "Let's go rescue the handsome knight."

They rode out, following the directions that Merlin had memorized. They didn't stop again, though Merlin began to realize on the trip that he was terribly thirsty and wanted more than anything to stop so he could find some water. But he wanted to have Arthur back by the end of the day and in his own room by tomorrow afternoon at the very latest.

And if someone had hurt Arthur while he was gone, he wanted to have them dead before sundown.

That didn't seem like too tall of an order to him.

They found it several hours before sundown. Merlin recognized it from the dragon's description. He slid off of his horse, tying it to a nearby tree, and began to slink through the shrubbery to get a better look at it. Behind him, he heard Gwaine copying his movements.

They got into a position behind a bush and several trees, where they could see the front of the house fairly well.

He gestured to the house. "Thoughts?" he said to Gwaine.

Gwaine scrutinized the place. "Two story, white-ish building," he said. "Not very sinister looking."

"Means nothing," said Merlin dismissively. "Neither was Nimueh at first."

"Who's Nimueh?"

"High priestess, poisoned me and tried to kill Arthur and Uther… and my mother. She did kill Gaius for a short while there. Dead now."

"Basically, sinister?"

"Very. Kilgharrah said that the place goes underground too. How did he know that?"

"It's sort of on a bit of a plateau, isn't it?" said Gwaine. "There's probably a back entrance in the ground… like a trapdoor. An escape route for emergencies."

"If we can find it, it would be easier to get in that way than through the doors, wouldn't it?" said Merlin. "There seem to be guards at the doors."

"It could be miles away from here though, depending on how far the underground extends. It would be easier to sneak in than to locate it, especially once it gets dark."

Merlin sighed in resigned agreement and sunk to a sitting position, thinking.

"Maybe," said Gwaine, "if we look around the back…"

Merlin sat up straighter and stared at the house more intensely. It looked like just an unusually large house, but he knew that there were guards posted on the inside – one for each door, he'd bet – and several triggers in certain places on the walls that would set off an alarm. Spells of protection kept everyone unauthorized out of the house. The dragon had told him some of these things, and the rest he could sense with his powers.

"Gwaine," he cut his friend off. "Have you ever impersonated a cult member?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Once, but I was very drunk and she was very attractive."

"How do you feel about doing it again?"

"Considering I woke up on an altar last time… How would we even disguise ourselves?"

"We'd need those thick brown robes they all seem to be wearing, of course, which might be a bit of a problem," Merlin conceded, bobbing his head in Gwaine's direction without looking at him.

"You were right," said an angry voice from behind that Merlin knew without a moment's thought did not belong to him or to Gwaine. Wincing, Merlin turned around (and saw Gwaine doing the same) to face the two men that had snuck up behind them.

Both wore the thick brown robes that seemed to be characteristic of the Mortdestin – a parody of the Druids' style, Merlin reflected.

"Of course I was," said the other man, who had a higher voice but a bigger build.

"My friend here," the first man informed Gwaine and Merlin, simpering, "said that he saw movement in the bushes near some of our triggers, and that it was probably spies. I would have ignored it, except you should always know when to listen to your friends."

Merlin slowly made his way to his feet, his eyes on the sword that the one speaking had out. The other one had a hand out, ready to use magic. "That's wise," he said, trying to figure their chances while he blabbered. "I'm still trying to teach my own friends that."

"Well, usually we'd bring prisoners straight to Vera," said the talkative one conversationally. "But orders are to dispose of anyone trying to steal away the king, so… Better just to kill you."

_Yes. We found Arthur. Now, to get him._

Merlin shared a look with Gwaine. Then he took a step forward. "Well, then, in that case I suppose I should just… Oops!" Merlin 'tripped' and went sprawling into the one that appeared unarmed, nearly knocking him off his feet.

Before the Mortdestin members knew what had happened, Gwaine had leapt over Merlin's legs, drawing his own sword, and launched himself at the one with the weapon.

Merlin shrugged the tension out of his shoulder, drew himself back a bit, and threw himself at the magic-man, a spell on his lips.

* * *

><p>"That was slightly scary," Gwaine said as he pulled the new hood up over his head and they left the unconscious, bound, and gagged men behind in the trees.<p>

"Why?" said Merlin. "I didn't do any more than you did."

"Yes, but I'm not used to you actually, physically fighting. With magic." Gwaine was resisting the urge to ask where he'd learned how to conjure rope.

Merlin shrugged. "You know, you really aren't accepting this half as fast as Lancelot did."

"_Lancelot_ knew?"

"Shh, we're getting close to the door."

Gwaine followed Merlin's footsteps as they approached the door. On the outside, it looked like any wooden door you could walk through, but Merlin said there was a guard right on the inside, watching those who entered and left. Merlin figured there were three doors, plus several people just working inside, a leader—maybe ten enemies in all? Eight after they defeated the last two? Perhaps more, though, depending on how large of a group this really was.

"Just don't say anything," Merlin whispered as they approached. "Maybe we just walk in."

They approached the door and stepped inside. The guard saw them and they saw the guard. They passed the guard – Merlin stiffened – Gwaine was prepared – nothing happened.

Merlin and Gwaine kept walking. They were in.

The hallway they entered was dark, blank, and empty, with only several torches lighting things up. They could see several other hallways branching out from it.

"Not many places for holding someone here," said Gwaine, looking around, his hand on his sword, right behind Merlin.

Merlin nodded. "We'll probably have to go down into the lower parts. That's where they'd have someplace to… hold someone." Cells, he thought, but didn't say it for fear of his anger boiling over. "Oh. Gwaine," he said, it suddenly occurring to him. "By the way, don't touch the walls, because they have triggers for…"

Just then, the unmistakable sound of warning bells pealed from nowhere. Merlin sucked in his cheeks and turned around, glaring at the knight who was leaning on the wall and smiling sheepishly.

"Now you tell me," Gwaine griped.

Merlin sighed. They were blown. Well, no where to go but in. "Better start running," he said, wrapping his Druid-esque cloak tighter about himself and lifting it slightly so his feet had more room.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I want to go ahead and apologize to everyone who has me on author alert. I know my updating has been ridiculous and you've probably decided my stories aren't worth it by now. I've just been on break with lots of free time. But that ends today, so I will probably go back to updating like a normal person now! ~ end of announcement ~ **

**I know that it is a short chapter, but I was in sort of a hurry.**

* * *

><p>Vera sat in her chair, eyeing her bed. She hadn't slept well last night, and she knew that she should nap, but she wasn't tired. Well, that wasn't exactly true: she <em>was<em> tired. But she wasn't sleepy.

She sighed to herself. Much to her frustration, the king was still being difficult. She wished he would make things easy on them both. Her father had told her not to stop until she had the information on Emrys, and no one with a sense of self-preservation ever disobeyed her father. That was how he managed to rule over the entire group of Mortdestin, after all; his stern command. She hadn't inherited that from him, sadly.

As Vera sat there, she felt her mind drawn back to the questioning. Her hands clenched into fists as she remembered how valiantly he'd tried to hold in the pain, but every time his eyes opened and he looked at her, the pain seemed to flare up and become worse. _"Guinevere…"_ It had been practically ripped from his throat through his teeth, and then tears started leaking from his eyes.

Vera stood up quickly. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, trying to relieve the headache she had.

Maybe when she got back she would ask her father if she could stay away from missions like this. But she knew that he wouldn't grant her wish, he would just tell her that it "got easier". So she shook the slightly sick feeling off with a bit of effort.

She had to admit she pitied King Arthur, but there was no crime in that. He was a victim of destiny. He was just a subject of the prophecies that wanted to repress the world and keep the earth's inhabitants in a rigid, restricted structure… He hadn't even known, from what they'd said, that he was The Once and Future King.

As a thought occurred to her, she sat back down and rubbed her hands together. If… if he hadn't known who he was, what if Emrys didn't know who _he_ was? "Emrys"… "Immortal". What if it _wasn't_ a name?

That would mean Arthur actually didn't know… She would have to look into this.

There was a knock at her door.

"It's not locked," she called, staring at the wall in front of her, deep in thought.

The door opened to reveal some man whose name she wasn't familiar with. He wasn't someone she usually interacted with, but he wore the brown robes of the Mortdestin. Then why did he look so…?

Past him, the sound of the intruder alarm was going off.

He stared at her and she at him for a second.

"Sorry, wrong room!" he said, and ducked out again.

She sat for another second or two, staring at the open door, and then she leapt to her feet and ran out the door, but the man was gone. A guard ran up from behind her and grabbed her arm. "Intruders, milady!" he cried.

She blinked at him. "Yes," she said. "I figured that out. Head downstairs, guard the king."

He nodded and ran off. For Vera's part, she went the direction she thought the man who poked his head into her room had gone—and that direction was another, longer way to the dungeons and King Arthur.

* * *

><p>"Where now?" Gwaine said, who decided to stay behind the warlock after Merlin had pulled him out of the wrong room and taken him back the opposite way.<p>

In response, Merlin pulled him into an alcove. "We have these in Camelot, too," he said. "Very useful."

"What are we doing here?"

Several men ran past, and Merlin smiled. He looked a little like a wild animal with that expression, and Gwaine was glad that the warlock was on his side. "They're going to assume we're here to save Arthur," he said. "So they'll probably head to Arthur. We'll just follow them."

As he stepped out of the stone niche, Gwaine followed, sword out and looking around for any sort of threat. "That makes sense," he agreed, and followed Merlin again, keeping an eye out for people approaching from behind.


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur had stayed in the same position until the last of the shudders had left him and he was left cold, tired, and in burning pain. And then he sat up as well as he could and started looking around his prison for some sort of escape route. His intellect told him that there was no way out, but he gritted his teeth and kept looking, exhausting his imagination.

The dungeon was empty. He thought maybe if he looked around the floor hard enough, he would find something that could be used to pick a lock—get a jailor's attention—hit someone over the head—stab someone… He knew so many ways to get out of places like this. But the chains ruined all those plans. They would not be torn from the wall, even if his broken arm would allow him to exert that much pressure.

He looked at them, since it was apparent they were the only choice he had. What could be done with chains? If he got desperate, he might be able to contort himself into a position where the chains were wrapped around his neck, with gravity providing the pressure—he might manage to kill himself. He wasn't quite that desperate yet, but perhaps if he could get a captor close enough to him while unarmed, he could kill the other person.

If they had a key, that could actually be useful. But what were the chances? And he wasn't sure he could bring himself to choke or break the neck of even someone who just looked like Gwen or Merlin.

Arthur's vague plotting was cut short when he heard sounds outside, filtering through the bars of the door he couldn't see. Someone was outside. From the sound, many someones. Were they coming back already? He broke out in a cold sweat, and the salt water made the pain from his burns worse.

And why did it sound like a struggle?

He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that different was bad.

* * *

><p>Merlin was right, Gwaine reflected. With their brown hoods, the two rescuers managed to run right past some of the men down here, but they all seemed to be gathering near one common hallway. There were about five men there now. And there was only one, barred door in that hallway.<p>

"I think we found it," Gwaine said.

Merlin nodded. "Keep your sword ready; I'll find out."

He walked right through most of the men and tapped one of them on the shoulder. This man, a red-headed fellow who was close to the barred door, turned around and looked at Merlin suspiciously and expectantly.

"Is this where the king of Camelot is being kept?" he asked.

The man looked stunned, and then his eyebrows went down in confusion as he stared at the warlock, seeming to realize that he did not recognize Merlin.

"I think that's a yes," said Merlin, turning away.

Recovering, the man threw up one hand to cast a spell at Merlin, but Merlin saw it coming and spun back around, his own hand up and ready. Merlin's eyes flashed yellow.

The man left the ground, pushed backwards. He flew through the air without making a sound, his mouth gaping, and crashed into the wall behind him, his head connecting with a crack. He sank to the ground, unaware. Merlin couldn't tell right away if he was dead or alive.

He turned back to Gwaine, who now had his sword ready and wasn't even trying to hide it. Merlin put down his hood and Gwaine followed his movement, preparing themselves in the time it took for the remaining men to stare at their comrade's fallen body. More men should be on their way, too, Merlin figured, and cracked his knuckles.

And then all hell broke loose.

Gwaine and Merlin launched themselves at the enemy and the enemy threw themselves at the rescuers. Gwaine had a sword, and one or two of them had knives coupled with magic. Merlin held them off of Gwaine with their spells and threw some of his own. There was near silence except for several whispered spells and grunts, and Gwaine thought it was the quietest he'd ever heard while fighting for his life.

Finally Merlin had to draw back, his mouth bleeding from an unexpected punch, and motioned for Gwaine to do the same, but the knight didn't see him. So Merlin latched onto the knight and yanked him behind. Then Merlin eyed the remaining two men and his eyes flashed gold. "_Marw_," he said.

Both men fell to the ground.

Gwaine stared, gasping for breath. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"I just thought of it. I wasn't even sure it would work." Merlin's knees buckled, but he kept himself from hitting the ground by using the wall. It wouldn't matter if he triggered an alarm now. "But," he said slowly, "I don't think I should do it again unless I have to."

"You alright, mate?"

"Fine," said Merlin, waving away Gwaine's offered hand. "Arthur's the one who needs worrying about." He staggered over to the bars and pressed his cheek against them. His head couldn't fit it, but if he strained his eyes, he could see a figure leaning against the same wall that the door was on… Yes, he could see it now. "It's Arthur," he told Gwaine. "I'm sure of it. But he's not moving."

"Maybe he's sleeping?"

Merlin gripped the lock of the door in his palm and closed his eyes, breathing out in a magically-thick voice, "_Datgloi_."

Gwaine waited. "Nothing," he said, eyeing the lock. "Well, that's anticlimactic."

"Hold on," Merlin snarled. "We have to get in… _Toddi! Egwyl! Diflannu!" _Merlin couldn't take it anymore, and he jerked his hand away from the lock, looking at his palm. It was bright red from the heat his spells had caused on the lock, but the lock itself was unbroken.

"Is it you or the lock?" Gwaine asked, keeping a look out.

"I think it's the lock. We'll need a key."

"Merlin…" called Gwaine. "Three men approaching."

Three men in Druid's robes were stalking towards them down the hallway, faces hard and angry. Merlin looked towards them. "Where is the key to this door?" he asked calmly.

"I don't think they want to let us in, Merlin," said Gwaine.

Merlin did not look intimidated, though that was the effect the men were obviously going for. "I think Arthur's injured, Gwaine," he said. "He's not moving. So we need that key."

The men stopped. One of him raised his hand to cast a spell, and Merlin got ready to shield himself, but to his surprise a wall of something seemed to slam into him and crush the warlock to the ground. He gasped, caught off guard by someone else's spell.

Above him, he heard the fight starting.

"Good, Claude—watch out!"

"Agh!" That was Gwaine.

"_Fflam!" _

Merlin was missing it. He jumped back to his feet, winded, and saw that Gwaine was fighting one of the men, who had gotten some kind of weapon. Meanwhile, Gwaine's brown cloak was on fire and slowly being eaten away at.

Merlin threw himself onto the first man he came to, knocking him to the ground. By the time he got up again, having cut down the man with his magic, Gwaine was fighting the last one, and he'd disposed of the flaming cloak, which now lay burning on the ground. Merlin quickly finished off the last man for Gwaine.

"Check their clothes," he said, going over to the first one's body. "The keys."

Merlin pulled back the dead man's cloak and checked in the folds, then moved on to his belt.

"This one!" called Gwaine, bending over the one that, though they didn't know it, was named Claude. Merlin came over quickly and tore the key ring from the man's belt loop.

Just then they heard footsteps, someone running closer, and Merlin looked up to see a young woman in familiar baggy clothes and her hair in a braid over her shoulder approaching swiftly.

"For heaven's sake," Merlin griped. "Is there no end to these people?"

"Usually once the women start coming at you, it means the supply of men is at its end," Gwaine supplied helpfully.

The woman stopped as she surveyed the bodies – eight in all. Her eyes bugged out of her head, and the tendons and bones in her neck and collar stood out. "Claude? Samuel? Ian?"

She looked up at Merlin and Gwaine with horror. "What did you do?"

Merlin passed the metal keys to Gwaine. "Go in and take care of Arthur as best you can," he said, not breaking eye contact with this new enemy. "I'll be right in."

Gwaine nodded and started for the door, but she cried, "No!" and shot a spell at him, one for fire.

Gwaine fitted the key into the lock as Merlin blocked that spell, but it was the wrong key. She tried again, running forward, but Merlin stepped in the way and shot a deadly spell at her. She moved out of the way, responding with a spell just as fatal to those it touched. It didn't touch either of the men, because Merlin moved out the way and Gwaine was already inside.

Merlin spat another spell at her, and her feet left the ground. She fell to the floor, but as he ran up to finish it, she spoke low words under her breath. Suddenly it wasn't this strange girl lying there, it was Gwen.

Merlin stumbled and faltered, and she took advantage of his alarm to try another spell. "_Fflam_!" she shrieked.

* * *

><p>Gwaine heard the sounds of a battle back in the hall, but he knew Merlin could hold his own in battle. He quickly made his way over to Arthur.<p>

The king had made himself small, and he didn't look at Gwaine, but the knight knew that he was aware that he had company.

Gwaine reached for the chains around his right arm, but Arthur seemed to pull away, and that made Gwaine stop and look closer. The arm was obviously broken; swollen and dirty. The knight winced and tried not to look at the other injuries just yet. If all of Arthur was in that kind of shape, they had problems. He saved that limb for last, reaching for the other limb instead. The keys jingled in his hands, and finally Arthur looked up.

Blue eyes were narrowed in suspicion and fear.

Gwaine released one arm from the chains, then a leg.

"What are you playing at?" Arthur demanded, but his voice was barely more than a whisper. He wouldn't be fooled, not again.

"I'm rescuing you," Gwaine told him, but Arthur wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to believe that.

* * *

><p>"How can you do that?" the girl said in surprise, just evading another spell. She stood in the middle of the hallway, breathing hard. He stood about five feet away, his eyes just fading to blue. "You were just his clumsy servant!"<p>

She knew about him? Merlin wondered at that, but shrugged it aside.

Merlin was tired of playing games. He glared at her, his magic building and his eyes changing. "I'm _Emrys_," he told her. "And you took my king. That's how."

Her eyes went wide again, and she took a step back, nearly tripping over Claude's body. But it was too late. Merlin didn't even bother lifting his hand this time.

She flew through the air – that was his favorite trick – and bashed her head into the ceiling and then the wall before crashing to the ground, limp as a rag doll. She screamed once, but it was cut off and she was silent.

Merlin paused a moment to catch his breath and then ran into the cell to see what had become of Arthur.


	13. Chapter 13

Vera felt the spell splutter out when she hit her head, and by the time she hit the ground it was mostly gone. She looked like herself again within a moment, but she doubted Merlin noticed. He was already gone.

_I should get up and stop him, _she realized, and started to push herself up.

And then the pain hit.

She dropped back and cried out weakly before biting her lip. _No, Vera,_ she told herself viciously. _You don't get that privilege._ _Grow up._

It hurt. It hurt. It felt like someone had taken an ax and buried it – dull end first – into her skull, and yet she was not dead. Yet. Shakily, she moved her hand to the top of her head. She hissed and pulled away. Her hand came away red. Also, from the way it felt, she'd either broken or sprained her neck.

She blinked several times, nearly getting lost in the pain.

Then she sighed and, using her fingertips and her knees, began to drag herself away from the door of the dungeon. If she turned that corner, she could drag herself up the three stairs – she winced at the thought – and through the backdoor for the underground, there was a farm really close… One step at a time. She had to get away first. She had a feeling that when Merlin – or Emrys or _whatever _– came out of there, he was going to want blood. She knew she would.

As she moved, the pain in her head flared up again, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. Just one inch at a time.

She moved past the other men, noticing briefly that one of them still seemed to be breathing, but she couldn't stop now. She was on her way out.

* * *

><p>When Merlin entered, tearing off his cloak and tossing it onto the floor, the other two men turned to look at him. Gwaine was leaning over Arthur, holding the key, having just freed the king, and Arthur sat hunched on the wall.<p>

Gwaine smiled, but Arthur's eyes went wide. "No…" Merlin almost thought he heard him whisper, but of course he didn't, because that hardly made sense.

Arthur suddenly leapt forward (or the nearest thing to leaping an injured, tired, and hungry man could manage) and wrapped one of the chains from his arm around Gwaine's neck. And then he pulled, one-handed.

Merlin started forward as Gwaine gasped in surprise. "Arthur, stop that!" he ordered.

Arthur could barely hold the chains together with only one-hand, and he was in an awkward position for pulling. Besides, after a moment Gwaine and Merlin could both see his heart wasn't in it; after a second or two of some (extremely gentle, on Gwaine's part) wrestling, Gwaine got the chains off his neck. Arthur sank back down, looking defeated.

Merlin stopped next to the other two. There was silence as Arthur breathed heavily and Gwaine rubbed his neck.

"I told you," Arthur said, and the effort he put into keeping his voice from cracking was apparent. "I don't know."

"Arthur, I didn't ask you a question," said Merlin slowly, swapping looks with the other knight.

"I don't know anything about Emrys," Arthur insisted.

Merlin knelt down next to him, a sinking feeling in his chest, and was on the verge of asking for an explanation when he saw Arthur fully for the first time. Merlin gave a little hiss of anger. Arthur's right arm looked terrible. It was twice its normal size and a purplish blue, and both lower arm and hand were misshapen. They were broken and the bones had never been set. Then there were the burns. They started at his collarbone and the red, sometimes scabbed streaks spread out down his chest. His shirt had a black, charred part where it used to lace.

Merlin felt his face losing expression and going slack. Part of him was seething. Part wanted to hug the poor king, proper or no. But most of him was wishing that he hadn't just likely killed the entire group of captors, because he would enjoy going back and killing them again.

Shaking himself, Merlin reached out to take Arthur by the shoulders. Arthur pulled back and tried to turn so his broken arm was away from Merlin's grasp. He was trying to hide it, but Merlin saw in his eyes that he was terrified. And it wasn't that he didn't recognize Merlin. He seemed lucid, sort of.

Back in the hall, the girl… Merlin remembered that with a few words, she'd turned into a facsimile of Gwen. Actually, if Merlin hadn't known, he would have said she was Gwen. Suspicion boiled up in him.

Merlin held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I won't touch you, see? Gwaine won't either."

Arthur seemed to relax, only slightly.

Merlin continued, "I'm Merlin. Merlin, your servant, you remember me?"

Anger flickered in Arthur's blue eyes, and Merlin nearly cheered to see it there, no matter what it meant. "You're not," he said, sounding like he was forcing the words out. "And I don't know who Emrys is."

Merlin chewed on his lip for a second, looking at Gwaine. He couldn't move Arthur unless he could touch him, and he couldn't do that if he couldn't get Arthur to believe him. And they had to hurry in case there were any more enemies loitering around. But Arthur was hurt, and when he was hurt, he was unreasonable. Merlin had known him long enough to know that. Gwaine shrugged in reply, but Merlin could see the concern in his eyes.

Gwaine and Arthur… That might convince him.

Merlin leaned forward so that he had Arthur's full attention (as if there was any chance of him losing it). The king leaned back. "Arthur," said Merlin, "you remember the Perilous Lands? Gwaine and I came and helped you, even though we weren't supposed to? Then the door fell and I got separated?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Gwaine and I wouldn't tell anyone about that. You know we wouldn't. Never."

His voice was nearly a whisper now, full of emotion, and for the first time he could see that Arthur has stopped expecting an attack. That he might have actually believed his servant.

Merlin's hand inched forward. Arthur tensed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Merlin swore. "My hand will only touch the back of your head, okay?" Let him be ready, Merlin figured. He waited for Arthur to nod before he gently put his hand on the back of Arthur's cold, dirty, sweaty blond head. "Just look at Gwaine." He spoke soothingly, like he would to a hysterical woman or a frightened child… Or a king that had been kidnapped and suppressed and hurt.

Arthur slowly, slowly turned his head to look at Gwaine.

"Now," said Merlin. "You just need to sleep." And while Arthur wasn't looking, he whispered a word so quietly that no one could hear it, and his eyes flashed gold. Arthur went limp.

Gwaine looked at Merlin. Shrugging, the warlock wiped his face and realized that he had tears in his eyes. "We wouldn't have gotten him anywhere like that," he said.

"He can't walk if he's asleep," Gwaine argued.

"I'd rather carry him myself than make him walk right now," Merlin retorted so fiercely that Gwaine sighed in defeat.

"I'll carry him," he said.

"I can help with magic if you need me to…"

"No, you're still exhausted. I bet he's heavy, too." Gwaine sighed. "Let's just get him to the horses and away from here."

"And then we'll look after that arm and those burns," agreed Merlin, running over to the door and looking around quickly for enemies. The girl was missing, but no one else had moved and there was no one else. "Be careful with his arm," he ordered Gwaine. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What did you think? By the way, _Merlin_ has begun airing in America, as of tonight. Season 4, that is. Exciting, right? For Americans. Oh, and I have a poll on my profile involving my 100th story, coming up soon, so… Please check it out. Vote. Voting is good. **


	14. Chapter 14

They didn't stop to check on the bodies, but Merlin noted that the woman was missing. He didn't stop to look for her though. He had Arthur to take care of now, and frankly, throwing Gwen into a wall once had probably worked its way into his nightmares already. Merlin told himself not to fret over that, though; nightmares were nothing new. The only thing unexpected was what was in them.

But he had a feeling that he knew what they would be about for now. He'd nearly vomited when he'd seen Arthur's injuries.

It took too long to get back up the stairs and to the door, and Merlin was antsy with worry the entire time, but at least they didn't come across any opposition. Merlin was fairly certain he wouldn't have been able to control himself and would have just blown up half of the house if anyone had tried to cross him right now. Gwaine stayed behind him but nearby, perhaps sensing that Merlin didn't need anyone in his way… Or perhaps he was just slowed down by the king, who was a good deal heavier than a sword or a tankard of mead.

"How is he?" Merlin asked as they made it to the door finally.

"Breathing," answered Gwaine. "This can't be good for his arm, but he's still asleep."

Merlin cast his king one worried look – Arthur looked like death itself. Actually, that wasn't true. Merlin had seen corpses before, and he had to say that Arthur looked a good deal worse than many of them. His face a pasty, like paper that had soaked in water and then dried, and it scared Merlin.

He turned back around and pushed on through the door. He didn't bother worrying about any kind of censors. Any person who was in the section of the Mortdestin was probably dead downstairs, and if they weren't, Merlin would gladly welcome the chance to have a go at them.

They made their way into the woods – the tied up Mortdestin members were probably awake and most likely cold, and Merlin thought that he'd like a chance to send them where they'd never be cold again. But… _Arthur_. Besides, this newfound bloodlust was scaring him.

_Don't do something you'll regret, _Gaius would tell him. The scary part, though, was that he wasn't sure he'd regret it. So he avoided the men.

By the time they reached the horses, Merlin had cooled down about a degree, but it was better than nothing.

Then they had a new problem.

"If we had three horses, we could lean him over like we did for you after the Dorocha," Gwaine observed, leaning against a tree to catch his breath.

"With that arm?" Merlin answered, looking at the two horses. "He needs to be held up until we can find someplace to take care of him."

"He can ride with me," Gwaine said. "And we can go to the farm where I borrowed the horses. It's only a few hours away."

"That's quite a way."

"There's nothing closer," Gwaine said. He couldn't carry Arthur any longer, so he let the king's feet rest on the floor and leaned Arthur's uninjured side against himself. "But if we didn't take the road… If we cut through the trees…"

"How much time could we cut off?"

"I'm not sure," Gwaine grunted, flipping his hair. "If we don't get lost? Maybe hours."

Merlin looked at Arthur. His head was leaning against Gwaine's shoulder and his neck was exposed. "We won't get lost," he said. "Help me get him up on the horse."

Together, they managed to situate Arthur, and then Gwaine held him in place until Merlin mounted up onto the bareback animal. "You'll have to do most of the leading," Merlin told Gwaine. "I won't be able to see around him." Merlin put his arms around Arthur's middle and kept him firmly in place, but took care not to jar his arm. Arthur's unconscious face had a crease of pain on it, but Merlin could not do anything about it. If he could do so without falling off the horse, he would try and work on some sort of spell of healing.

"Don't worry," Gwaine said, walking over to his own horse and throwing a leg over it.

A relatively short time later, they were approaching a run down little shack with a sagging roof. It was dilapidated, but that worked for Merlin fine; he'd seen enough big rooms, and somehow smaller ones always seemed safer. And he liked the idea of safety about now.

"Hello!" Gwaine called when the place was still in the distance. "Hello!" No one came out to greet them, and the knight's brow puckered. "There's no cart there. There was one last time," Gwaine said to Merlin.

As they got closer, Gwaine said in dismay, "No one's here."

Merlin was past being disappointed by something like that. When they were close enough, he slid off the horse. "Get Arthur into the house," he said. "I'll look for some well or pump. We need water. If there's a bed inside, put him on it. Usually," he said with a half-smile, "we'd ask, but as the man seems to have left…"

Gwaine used both hands to carefully lift Arthur down from the horse and winced when the king crashed into his chest. "I think he has a fever. I can feel the heat through his clothes."

Merlin looked tired. "I know," he said. "I couldn't think of anything to do about it. Just get him inside before he wakes up."

Gwaine nodded and half-dragged, half-carried to king off. Merlin walked around the house, keeping an eye out, and eventually he found what he wanted—a well at the back. He quickly drew up some water – two buckets worth, because he found those too – and brought them back to the house.

Inside was a little sturdier looking than the outside, and there was one window cut into the wall. There was a raggedy cot similar to the one Merlin slept on back in Camelot and Arthur was lying on it, his uninjured arm next to him. His pasty face now had red spots on it.

"He's definitely feverish," Gwaine said. "I wish we had Gaius."

Merlin nodded. "Between the arm and the burns, it's not a surprise. Do you see any cloths—ah. Here." He dunked the cloth into one of the buckets and handed it to Gwaine. "Put it on his head for now. We'll wash the fever out if we can, and try to get him to drink something."

Gwaine did so, then took the next cloth handed over. There were several strips on the table in the corner, but Merlin thought that if they needed more than those three, they could start ripping up something or use his neckerchief. "And pull that blanket over him, he's probably cold."

"We're getting him wet and making him warm?" Gwaine put this one on Arthur's throat.

"Something like that."

"Merlin," said Gwaine, looking at him seriously. "While you were gone, I got a look at that arm. It looks pretty bad."

Merlin nodded. "I know. His sword arm, too."

Gwaine licked his lips. "I'm not a physician, but I've seen injuries. I don't think he's going to be able to use it again."

Merlin looked down at the buckets, then set about looking for a cup. They might get Arthur to drink something. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "You're forgetting something."

"What?" Gwaine was surprised.

"I have magic." Merlin swallowed. "Sure, I'm not too good at healing—but it's for a good cause. I'll do what I can."

Gwaine looked towards Arthur, who was beginning to turn a bit and twitch. "What about when he awakens and realizes that his previously horribly broken arm is healthy?"

"I'll lie," Merlin said, finding the cup. "I'm good at that."

And that was the end of the conversation.


	15. Chapter 15

"So what exactly are you doing?"

Arthur's fever had gotten worse. Merlin kept up at his treatment, but the arm kept worrying him, and the longer Merlin left it, the worse he felt. Arthur was sweating and trembling, but still unconscious, and Merlin wished again that he had Gaius there with him.

He'd stopped worrying about Gaius being there for Camelot a while ago. It was kind of hard to worry about Agravaine and Morgana having nefarious plots with Arthur like this, because Merlin's loyalty may have been to Camelot… But it was always first and foremost to Arthur. Luckily, most of the time the two loyalties were equivalent to each other. Right now, though, Arthur needed help.

So Merlin selfishly wished for Gaius to come and take the responsibility away, and didn't even feel badly about it.

After a while he just couldn't stand it anymore, so he gave the bucket to Gwaine and told him what to do. Then he nearly fled outside.

A while later, when Gwaine came and found him, he was sitting by the well, looking intensely at the two pieces of a twig he held in his hands.

He ignored Gwaine entirely and said in his low, magic voice: _"__Drwsio__yr aelod."_

The two pieces of twig seemed suddenly to pull towards each other with great force. They pushed themselves together and twisted until they fit into the grooves and niches of their partner. Then, the two bits attached to each other with little sinewy bits of wood – or as sinewy as wood could get – until they appeared to be one unbroken stick.

Merlin stopped what he was doing and looked up at his friend.

And that was when Gwaine had to ask.

Merlin gestured the stick at Gwaine almost accusingly. Gwaine eyed the magic-ed thing suspiciously. "This is how I'm going to fix Arthur's arm."

"With sticks?"

Merlin chuckled. Gwaine always made everything look better. "No," he said. "I was practicing on the sticks." He gestured to a pile of sticks at his feet. "It binds them back together, but sadly," he said as he broke the twig again and showed Gwaine how it had broken the exact same way as it had just been, "it only fixes them on the surfaces. Like setting a bone, I suppose. I think with this I can fix Arthur's bones or any nerves…" He sighed. "I wish I was a doctor."

Gwaine patted him on the shoulder comfortingly as Merlin dropped the two pieces of wood with the others at his feet. "Once we bring the fever down and fix that arm, we can get him to a real physician."

Merlin nodded. "How is he?"

"Sleeping a bit more peacefully, but the fever's higher."

Merlin sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wished he could bring back that furious fire he'd had eating away at his insides earlier, but he couldn't feel anything but a sort of sick pain and grief.

"I think I'm ready to fix his arm," he said. "Hopefully that will help."

Gwaine nodded firmly and helped the warlock to his feet. Merlin followed him into the house, dreading the sight before he saw it. Arthur was indeed sleeping more peacefully, still stretched out as much as he could be on his back, but with his broken arm drawn closer to him. The wet cloths were on his forehead and neck, but most of the liquid on him seemed to be sweat.

Merlin sighed. "Alright," he said, drawing up a chair and sitting by Arthur's side. "Arthur, I don't think you can hear me…"

But Arthur gave a small groan.

Merlin shot a look at Gwaine, who shrugged. Arthur stilled, though, so Merlin plowed on.

"I'm just going to help," Merlin continued. "I'm going to touch your arm, and it might hurt, but it won't last long."

"He can't hear you," said Gwaine.

Merlin scowled. "He needs to be told at least." He remembered how Arthur had reacted last time he'd tried to get a bit too close. But Gwaine was right; Arthur did not look inclined to protest.

Merlin put his hand gently on Arthur's arm and opened his mouth. He was shocked when Arthur seemed to slam into some semblance of consciousness; the king lurched, his fever-filmed eyes flying open.

"No," he gasped.

Merlin started, his hand bumping into Arthur's arm. Arthur hissed and let out a noise that Merlin couldn't really place. It was almost like a whimpering grunt.

"Sorry," Merlin said. "Sorry!"

He had to get on with it. He started again, but Arthur slammed his eyes shut and seemed more averse to the notion than ever. He twisted – _he's hurting himself!_ Merlin thought with some panic – and shook his head, his damp hair flying off his forehead.

"Don't," Arthur muttered, obviously caught up in his illness. "Don't… don't touch me."

"It's just me," Merlin assured him. "It's just me."

"Merlin…" Arthur's voice went up in pitch slightly and the terror behind that word was like a blow to Merlin's gut. His good arm wrapped around his body to guard the broken one. "Don't," he insisted. "_Please_. Don't… Know Emrys."

"Arthur," Merlin said, putting his hand out anyway in his determination to _get this over with_. Arthur caught Merlin's reaching hand in his own shaking one, keeping him back, but there was none of his usual strength in his grasp. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Arthur choked, but other than a slight whine, he didn't argue when Gwaine kindly took his hand and moved it away from Merlin's.

Merlin sniffed once and put his hand back on Arthur's arm. _"__Drwsio__yr aelod," _he growled, his head bowed as his eyes flashed a silvery gold and heat seemed to leak out of his palm into Arthur's crushed arm. He saw with his own eyes the unnatural bend in Arthur's arm straighten and sensed the bone stitching itself delicately together. The swelling seemed to lessen slightly as nerves and veins sorted themselves out, and Merlin knew that the only thing left that could help that limb was time.

Merlin inhaled sharply and pulled himself out of the magic haze to see what was going on. He stood up and took a step back, catching his breath. Gwaine was holding Arthur down on the bed, a hand on each shoulder, because Arthur was fighting and his eyes were rolling in his head. What was left of his shirt was stuck to him with persperation, and he was making these _noises_—

The warlock later figured it was anguish that he felt right then, but for that moment he only felt an unnamed erupting sensation in his chest as he watched Arthur and Gwaine's alarmed face. He threw an arm out, whispered a word, and in a second, Arthur had blacked out again.

Gwaine released Arthur, breathing heavily and looking back at Merlin, whose eyes were latched onto Arthur's still form.

"You knocked him out," said Gwaine.

Merlin nodded, but he didn't explain. He didn't try to say how he couldn't, he just couldn't, watch Arthur react like that for another second. It was too wrong, too un-Arthur… too vulnerable.

Merlin licked his lips. How had they gotten so dry? After a moment more, he managed to tear his eyes away from Arthur's still form. "We'll wait a little longer," he said. "But if that man doesn't come back, we need to get him help whether or not that fever goes down. We'll have to take the horses back to Camelot."

Gwaine nodded, sitting down in the chair Merlin had recently occupied.

Merlin looked around the room, appearing lost. He turned in a full circle before facing Gwaine again, and his face hardened as he said, "We won't tell him about that."

"What?" asked Gwaine in confusion.

"_That_," said Merlin, gesturing towards Arthur's body, unable to actually put words to what that had been. "When he's better and he wakes up, we won't tell him what just happened."

Gwaine's eyebrows drew together.

Worried, Merlin pushed on, needing Gwaine to understand this. "He wouldn't have wanted us to see that," he said. "You know how Arthur is. He's just… sick. He wouldn't have wanted…"

Gwaine shook his head and lifted his hand to stop the words dribbling from Merlin's lips. "I agree," he said. "We won't tell him."

Merlin let out a heavy breath and seemed to sag into himself. "Thank you," he whispered, and then once more into the silence: "Thank you." He almost fell back into the wall and took the weight off his legs, letting himself slide down into a sitting position as he ran his hands through his hair. After a moment of sitting there and staring into space, he let his face drop into his hands. Never again would he say a word about the fear he'd read on his best friend's face or heard in his voice. But he'd never forget it.

**A/N: So this was a really difficult chapter to write, not sure if it suffered for it. I just wasn't feeling it. Plus this is the last of the really hurt Arthur, I think; after this should be the road to recovery and the rest of the story. I really just wanted to get to next chapter. *shrugs* Sorry. **

**If anyone's interested, I posted my 100th story… It makes me feel old… jk. **


	16. Chapter 16

Every time the wagon hit a rut or a rock in the dirt road, it would rattle slightly, shaking the nailed-together wood almost unnoticeably. But every movement made waves of pain wash through Vera's body; her head, her neck… Moving them felt like… like… she didn't even know.

She didn't want to move them.

But there was no smoother way to travel, and she'd come to the conclusion that her neck was not broken (but probably sprained), so she didn't think she would drop dead of the movement. However, her head wound was making her nervous—everything was fuzzy; blood was clotted in her hair; an ache had spread down her head into her back. She knew it was still bleeding some. If anything was going to do her in, that was going to be it.

She gritted her teeth and bore it. She'd prefer to cry, but the poor farmer in the wagon next to her jumped if she so much as grunted and asked her if she was okay. And answering hurt too much, so she was silent.

They were not far from home, now; they'd been traveling for _hours _and she could just about feel it in the air.

Vera closed her eyes against the pain and tilted her head back, watching the light flicker against her eyelids as the sun peeked through tree tops. They were going through the forest as fast as the horses would take them without Vera screaming in agony.

"I think we might be almost there," said the man tentatively. "From your directions."

He was scared of her. She'd realized that soon enough. It was a little funny; not many people were afraid of Vera in her own right, but she was used to people scared of her because she had her father's ear. Usually she wouldn't hold that over anyone. Now, though, she felt like she was slipping away and she needed to go home, so if using a man's fear of the Mortdestin would get her there, she would use it.

His farm had been right near the back exit; he'd just been sitting around when she came crawling up, bleeding, injured, and needing a ride.

"Yes," she said. "Don't worry, they'll stop us. There's always a lookout. They'll see me in the seat."

Just then they hit another particularly bad bump, and she hissed through her teeth as her head bobbed loosely. The farmer began to jabber apologies.

She ignored him and recollected her wits.

"Halt!" The call echoed through the forest, and she winced at the sound in her ears. Did they have to _shout_ like that?

"Whoa," the man muttered gently to his horses, pulling back on the reins. The horses slowed immediately, and Vera opened her eyes reluctantly, but she did not turn her head to look around. That would be too much.

"Halt," the voice repeated. "Who are you?"

She thought she recognized the deep, low tones—Aberforth, or she'd eat grass. Just then the man himself stepped into view on the road and out of the trees, his bow taut and his arrow nocked and aimed.

The farmer looked worried, but his hands were steady.

"I'm just a poor farmer," he said. "The lady wanted a ride home…"

Aberforth looked towards her. "Vera? What happened?"

"My father," she said weakly. "Is my father nearby?"

"He should be just inside." Most of their headquarters was underneath the ground, dug out partly by magic and partly by nature. On the surface, it was just a normal but rackety building, and several hundred feet away there were few more similar buildings. Cliffs with caves – just out of sight here – were the only natural way in from the surface. Under the ground, it housed all of the Mortdestin—perhaps a hundred people give or take several dozen. Aberforth raised his voice and called out, "It's Vera! Saul!"

Several moments later there was the sound of footsteps cracking through the underbrush. "This had better be important," her father griped. On anyone else, it would have sounded petulant, but only Saul could make it sound honestly threatening.

And then he stepped into the road. Saul was a large man, but not fat—he had a large build, brown hair and gray eyes like his daughter. But he had a dark coloring and an unattractive but fearsome face, marred by tiny white scars from various incidents. When Vera had been so young that she had not known it was rude, she had been known to comment that it was a good thing that she'd gotten most of her traits from her mother. Her father's face was not frightening to her, but she would not want to look like him. She'd seen people go white when he sneered.

That might have been his reputation, though. It was slightly exaggerated, of course. Slightly.

Then he saw Vera.

"Vera," he said with some surprise.

On shaking arms, she pushed herself up and stepped off the cart. She made to walk towards him, but she barely got a step before she plopped right down on the ground, her hand on her forehead.

The farmer started and seemed to be about to go help her up, but Aberforth tightened his hold on his bow when the man even twitched.

Saul went over to his daughter, something like worry on his face, and helped her to climb to her feet. She leaned against him as though he was a wall.

"Sorry," she said. "Sorry. So dizzy. Very dizzy." She moved her eyebrows a bit, pulling her eyes open. They'd started to close. "I'm pretty injured," she added.

Her father glanced at the back of her head. His face hardened as he looked towards the farmer.

"Kill him," he told Aberforth.

"No!" snapped Vera, waking up abruptly. She sniffed a bit, shook her head, and regretted it hugely. "He had nothing to do with it. He wasn't even there. I…" She looked dizzy, but her knees held this time. "I promised him that there wouldn't be trouble."

"Now he knows where we are," Saul responded.

"I _promised_," she insisted. Her eyes closed. "I might've died otherwise. Had to get home."

"Alright, dear," he said in a voice softer than she'd heard since she was seven and broke her foot, "I understand. He won't be hurt."

Aberforth lowered his bow. The farmer reseated himself, having completed his job, and taking the reins, ordered his horses to move. The wide road let him turn around as he clip-clopped away. Vera didn't watch him go; the speech had been too much for her, and she dropped her head onto her father's chest, etiolated.

"Important things to tell you…" she murmured into his shirt, her eyes still closed. "Emrys… Once and Future King… Know who they are."

"Where are all your men?" As he spoke, Saul looked over her and jerked his head at Aberforth, looking where the farmer had disappeared, until the man got the message. Nodding, the armed fellow slipped into the woods to grab his horse and go.

"Dead," she said. "Except maybe Saxon; don't know… Had to leave. All Emrys. So tired…"

"It's alright. We'll take you instead, get you a doctor."

He helped her into the cabin and then down some steps into the first room they came to. It actually belonged to him; hers was further down, but he wouldn't make her wait that long. He brought her to his bed and put her down, choosing to overlook the blood seeping into his pillow.

"I'll get a doctor."

"Send Ma," Vera muttered. "Send someone. I have to tell you, and I don't have time." She opened foggy eyes to stare at him.

Not breaking eye contact, he nodded. "May!" he called as someone passed by in the hall. A young girl – not Vera's mother, but just a Mortdestin member – slipped in.

"Sir?"

"Get the physician. It's an emergency."

The girl was gone in an instant. Saul drew up a chair and sat heavily, a worried tinge in his eyes.

Vera took a deep breath. "Got the king," she told her father, having a hard time inhaling. Her head hurt so badly that it almost no longer hurt. She was so dizzy. The room was spinning. She didn't think she had much time. "Wouldn't tell us who Emrys was. But then he got rescued… Emrys killed all the men, threw me into wall… Merlin. King's servant. Merlin. That's the Emrys." Her eyes drifted closed.

Her father nodded again. "I understand," he said. "We will make plans to get rid of him." Gently, gently (so unlike him. It was so strange, she thought) he pushed her hair out of her face.

"Good," she said.

The first time she'd seen a dead body, she'd been nine. She'd known there was a prisoner, and known her father was going to talk to him. Something about some prophecy concerning a war. The man had been tied up in a chair, but she wasn't supposed to see him. She'd been sent out to play. And when she got back, she wondered why the man who used to make noises had gotten silent. So, when her father was turned away, she went and looked. She'd never forgotten that sight, and never told anyone that she'd seen when she wasn't supposed to. But since then, she'd never wanted to see someone dead. She did her duty to the Mortdestin, but she didn't want to kill or see carnage.

But Emrys had done her in. Her father didn't know it. But she could feel it. And she wanted Emrys to pay for that even if she wasn't around to make him.

She opened her eyes again and looked to her father. "Love you," she said. Vera hadn't told him that in years.

And then she closed her eyes once more and went away.

Her father stared at her for a second, recognizing that her breaths had stopped coming. He bit his lip as he reached out and took her wrist in his giant hand and felt for his only child's pulse. But there was nothing.

The physician burst in behind him, out of breath. "What's the emergency? Who's hurt?"

Not seeing anything, Saul stood from his seat by his daughter's bed. Still staring blankly, he said, "Other than my daughter and the men we sent, who else knows that spell to take on someone else's shape?"

The medical man was surprised. "Only Aberforth," he said, naming the talented-in-weapon-and-magic young man.

"Very well," said Saul. "When he gets back, tell him I want to see him at once about a trip. And in the meantime, call her mother." He gestured gruffly at Vera.

The physician's eyes wandered to the dead girl, and he gasped, showing off a lack of teeth. The old man looked shocked. "I'm sorry," he said.

Saul looked at him like he was crazy. "What?"

"I said I was sorry. About her. I know it's hard." The doctor was beginning to feel that he'd forgotten who he was talking to. But Saul was still just staring in a distant way. Only now he was looking in the other man's general direction.

"Revenge is better than sorrow," he said at last, and exited the room, leaving a bewildered man behind to take care of everything.

* * *

><p>The farmer didn't breathe for about half a mile, when he finally relaxed. He'd thought he was a goner there for a moment or two.<p>

But no. Everything was okay. He was headed back home to wait for the knight to return his horses, and the girl had gotten to her place, like she wanted. It all worked out. He worried for nothing.

The arrow that cut through the air and then the muscles of his chest, into his heart, was so fast and swift that it didn't hurt. He just had time to look up in surprise at a familiar figure of a man in the woods beside him before he toppled off the cart and to the ground. He was dead when he hit the ground.

The horses kept trotting unconcernedly on.

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><p><strong>AN: And so the story goes on! We'll be back to our heroes next chapter. Please review. I'm not sure what I think about this one...**


	17. Chapter 17

"The man who owns this place is not coming back anytime soon," Merlin said several hours after he fixed Arthur's arm, leaning back against the wall still. Except to get water or check on Arthur, neither he nor Gwaine had moved in that time. Merlin was pretty sure he had begun to doze at some point.

Gwaine nodded. "You're right. We'll just return the horses after we get to Camelot. At least his fever has gone down."

Merlin looked over at Arthur. The king was sleeping. Not a deep, unnatural, fevered sleep—but just sleep. Merlin looked at his calm face for perhaps longer than was strictly necessary, but the sight of him sleeping – not haunted by any sort of torment or memory – was like balm.

"It'll go back up if those burns get infected," Merlin said, launching himself to his feet. "Let's get him onto the horse and go. The sooner we get him to Gaius, the better."

Gwaine nodded and grunted as he got to his feet. "Come on, Arthur," he said to the king as he scooped him up in his arms. "You're heavy."

Merlin led him outside, hiding his impatience at how slowly Gwaine was moving. Now that he had some forward momentum, Merlin didn't want to stop. He wanted to see Camelot in front of him now; he wanted to be there, among the knights and Gaius. Because it wouldn't feel like Arthur was safe until he was home. And Merlin couldn't rest unless Arthur was safe.

* * *

><p>Very soon after Gwaine and Merlin trotted away from the hut, another figure approached. It was a cinch that so many people hadn't visited the place in so many days in years. Perhaps ever.<p>

This man was named Saxon. He had awoken to find himself alone with the aftermath of a battle, surrounded by dead comrades.

And so he had gotten up and staggered away down the back passage and found his way to the farmer's hut.

He thought about resting up here and then going back to the other members of the Mortdestin later. But Saxon had always considered himself a peaceful man, and he guessed that now people thought he was dead. Frankly, he could see some advantages to being dead.

He'd always fancied being a farmer, anyway, he thought as he yawned, his head aching. Perhaps he should just stay at this house and never leave. Smiling, he collapsed onto the slightly-warm bed inside and fell asleep without giving anything but his aching head another thought.

As it turned out, though no one except for a man named Aberforth knew it yet, a vacancy in the farming department of that vicinity _had_ just opened up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I recognize that it is extremely short, but it's a bridge chapter. Sorry! Things are going to start winding down soon I hope, but I admit I'm suffering a bit of writer's-laziness when it comes to this story. The words just won't get arranged how I want. Tsk. I'm working on it. I'll update when I can. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I know, it's been forever. Writer's boredom/laziness. Still upon me. Plus, very busy. I refuse to apologize, because I'm not all that sorry, and it wouldn't make anything better. I'm here now! Review? Last chapter hardly deserved it, but this time I have a bit more length. **

* * *

><p>Leon slammed his hand down on the table in his room. The loud thump and the burning sensation that flooded through his fingers was strangely soothing, like a release of all the pressure.<p>

He hadn't had a very good past few days, to employ the understatement of the century. It had reduced him to brooding to himself, and Leon _did not_ brood. Ever. Even when lying on the ground, smoking gently as fire ate away at him, the reminder of the dragon's attack. Even when forced into a large woman's dress. He didn't really brood. But this was different; this time he'd been left all alone to deal with Camelot, and it was driving him crazy.

As Leon contemplated his fate, he put on his shoes and started down to the courtyard to start his day.

First Merlin and Gwaine had left to look for Arthur, and as much as Leon wanted to go, he had to stay for the official search party. And then he didn't even get to go on that. The other knights did, but Percival and Elyan had reminded him that Merlin wanted someone to keep an eye on Agravaine.

Because apparently knights took orders from servants now.

Sure, Leon had great respect for the gangly man, he reflected as he stomped down the stairs, but his orders were hardly law, and he wasn't to take charge in case the king went missing. That wasn't the way things were supposed to work.

And yet somehow he'd stayed and kept an eye on Agravaine as the others rode away to do something useful, like find their endangered monarch. Actually, it was a good thing he did. Agravaine would not make a good king, Leon decided—it was almost like he wanted Camelot to get in serious trouble from the decisions he made. Opening the gates when they should be closed and vice versa, wording certain diplomatic speeches or such poorly, and nearly announcing that Arthur was missing to everyone. That surely would have caused panic.

Between Leon and Gaius, they'd managed to mostly keep him in check.

Meanwhile there was no word about Arthur, and though certain members of the search party had come back to give the news that there _was_ no news, Leon was antsy and unable to show it. He wished there was a monster he could go fight.

Yes, was the conclusion he came to as he reached the courtyard; he was greatly underappreciated.

Leon shuffled through Camelot, his head down, thinking about nothing in particular other than how much he wished life would return to normal. He only looked up when he heard a shout. It came from the gate, his brain registered automatically, and it wasn't a shout of pain. More like one of surprise or urgency.

The plainly dressed hordes of people on the street began to move as a rider came barreling up towards the castle—and towards Leon.

Merlin pulled his horse up short in the courtyard, nearly throwing himself off the saddle, his knees nearly buckling when his feet hit the ground.

"Leon," he said, his breathing heavy. "I'm going to get Gaius. Just get him inside—his room is fine."

"Who?" A stupid question, granted, but Leon had been caught off guard.

Merlin paused, and then a small smile appeared on his face. In a conspiratorial voice, he said, "I think he's going to be fine." And then he was off, sprinting for the physician's chambers.

Leon didn't have very long to wonder when he heard another horse coming at a marginally slower rate. Probably because there were two people on it. Gwaine sat in the saddle, using his arms to support an unconscious king.

Leon had to close his eyes for a second. Arthur looked like death itself. His head was back on Gwaine's shoulder, his blond hair swaying in sweaty clumps as the wind touched it. But he was breathing, his chest moving behind his ruined shirt. Except for his face and the visible parts of his chest, he was dirty. He appeared a little like he'd been through hell and crawled his way back up through the earth.

Gwaine pulled up on the reins, and Leon was by his side in an instant. "What happened to him?" he asked.

"Later," Gwaine grunted. "Let's get him to a bed."

Leon reached his arms out to take the king, and he supported Arthur's weight alone for a moment before Gwaine got off the horse and helped support the unconscious man. People were gawking.

"Quickly," Leon said, as they started towards the castle with the king held awkwardly off the ground between them.

Behind them, Leon noticed gratefully that a servant had run up and taken hold of Merlin's and Gwaine's new horses—which weren't their usual steeds.

"Where are your horses?" he asked.

"Didn't bring them," Gwaine said, shifting Arthur's weight. "I don't think Merlin expected to be gone so long. He got pretty far."

Which drew Leon's attention to the fact that once again he'd just taken orders from a servant. But this time, he didn't mind.

They got Arthur up to his room with some difficulty, and ordered a passing servant to open the door, which he did without question. Then Gwaine and Leon gently put Arthur on his bed, and Leon looked back at the young servant. "Get a clean shirt out of his wardrobe and go bring some water."

The man nodded and grabbed a loose white shirt quickly, putting it on the foot of the bed and rushing from the room to do as he was told. (Ah. Servants who didn't think they were in charge. That was a change.)

"Gaius will probably need water, to clean him off if nothing else," Leon said to Gwaine. Getting water used to be Gwen's job, as she always made herself available to help with these sorts of things, hovering directly over Gaius's shoulder. A lot had changed in Camelot recently. Leon didn't think it was for the better.

Gwaine shrugged, not really caring about that. He slumped a bit, glad that this bit of responsibility had ended.

Leon glanced at Arthur, lying on his bed. He looked… injured, hurt. It reminded Leon sickeningly of the Questing Beast.

There was heavy silence over the room. It lasted until Merlin came skittering into the room, Gaius behind him with his medical bag and limp. The physician made his way over to the injured man. "How long has he been sleeping?"

"Hours," said Merlin. "He wasn't really lucid when he was awake, though."

Gaius nodded. "Did you see his injuries?"

"His arm…" Merlin stopped and looked at Leon. Then he shrugged and plowed on. "The swelling in his arm has gone down, and so has his fever, but the burns on his chest still look bad."

Gaius carried about his examination, first checking Arthur's head and neck, and then moving to making sure the rest of him worked.

Leon said to Gwaine and Merlin, "The others in the search party should be back to today, judging by the food they took with them. They'll be glad to see you're back."

A knock on the door drew Merlin over. He opened it and took the water from the servant there with a nod. "Thanks, Walt," he said.

The man on the other side of the door nodded and left.

Merlin turned back to Gaius. "Where do you want me to put this?"

Gaius pointed towards the nightstand, and Merlin moved to put it there while asking, "Will we need to move him to your chambers?"

"I hardly think his condition at the moment calls for that," Gaius replied. "If everyone except Merlin would clear out, it would allow me to work in quiet."

Gwaine sort of wanted to complain and dig in his heels, but he thought better of it and allowed Leon to lead him out of the room. The curly-haired knight shut the door and turned to Gwaine with a face that brooked no argument.

"What happened to him?" Leon asked Gwaine. "Where'd you find him? He looks terrible."

Gwaine sighed and cast a glance back at the door as they started down the hall. "It's not a pleasant story," he said.

Deciding that they'd better tell Agravaine about Arthur's return, Leon went that way, replying to Gwaine, "Well, then, you'd better tell it quickly."

* * *

><p>"I healed his arm as best I could. It was a bad break," Merlin explained as Gaius checked over the unconscious king. "I think it helped. It brought down the fever."<p>

"I believe it did," Gaius agreed. "Where did you find him?"

"He'd been kidnapped by a group called the Mortdestin. He was in their hideout." Merlin looked at Arthur, enjoying the sensation of relief soothing his frazzled insides. Arthur looked _safe_ in his own bed with Gaius hovering over him. It made Merlin think he'd finally be able to sleep tonight.

Gaius looked up with an expression of alarm and surprise pasted on his old, wrinkled face. But it faded after a second, to be replaced with one of concern. He turned back to Arthur. "How did you get him away?"

"Chaotically," Merlin replied. His smile was a little guilty. "He's going to be alright, isn't he, Gaius?"

"If these burns don't get infected," Gaius said, "then I believe he will."

Merlin couldn't swallow his watery smile.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: As for the majority of this chapter—there are few things I love better than gossipy knights putting their heads together and making decisions. Like _Lamia_. But without trying to kill each other and with friendship!**

* * *

><p>Leon was white by the time they reached Agravaine's room.<p>

Gwaine hadn't embellished the story like he usually did to his adventures (especially when they included beautiful wenches or alcohol), but nevertheless Leon had gotten the idea quite effectively. Someone had tortured his prince.

The only thing stopping his rising fury was the fact that the people who had done it were dead. Mostly, from the sound of it, by Merlin's hand.

"Merlin, against all those people?" Leon couldn't help being skeptical, but Gwaine shrugged.

"He's scary when he's angry, mate," Gwaine said, smiling a little drily.

Leon didn't doubt it. He would never falter at listening to Merlin again.

As they reached Agravaine's door, Leon stopped to think. "Let's just tell him Arthur is back and sleeping for now," he said.

Gwaine looked surprised. "Not tell him what happened?" That didn't sound like Leon. "Won't he be angry when he finds out?"

Leon scratched his head a little sheepishly. "Probably," he said, "but he's been… rather reckless… since King Arthur was taken, and it might be wise to wait for a better setting."

Gwaine looked at Leon with a new respect in his eyes. "Are you suggesting we not tell the man in charge of the kingdom what's actually going on?"

Leon nodded slowly.

Gwaine grinned. "I think it's a wonderful plan."

* * *

><p>Horses trotted into the courtyard, and knights in their vibrant red slipped off of their horses and turned to face the castle.<p>

Leon was there to greet them, explaining to all of the knights who came across him that they'd found the king and he was going to be fine after a bit, but that he'd been a bit injured in his absence. Gwaine, however, found Percival and Elyan at once and began to fill them in with a more detailed story. Not, of course, including the little "magic" detail.

"And you haven't told Agravaine yet?" Elyan asked, slipping off his gloves.

"I thought it would be easier if he had more people to advise him on any course of action."

Elyan shrugged, but looked at the castle a little distractedly. Gwen used to be good at that. Why did it take about four of them to fill her job?

"And what is our course of action?" Percival asked, and the tall man was practically leaning down to be able to hear them better.

"Nothing," said Gwaine. "We wait until Arthur heals and gets to moving around again before we do anything."

"How long will that be?" asked Elyan as they made their way across the courtyard and towards the castle.

"We don't know yet," Gwaine said. "We came right here from Agravaine's chambers."

All four of them made their way towards Arthur's rooms, still talking among themselves. Once they reached them, they knocked, and the door was answered by Merlin.

He smiled. "You're back."

Elyan responded, "Well, we couldn't find a trace of him. Looks like we were going in the wrong direction. Good thing you knew better."

Merlin grinned and opened the door wider, letting them in. "That's what I'm here for."

As they passed him going into the room, Leon remarked, "I do wonder _how_ you knew better." His eyebrows drew together.

"Just got lucky," Merlin said innocently, and before Leon could question that further, Gwaine was behind him and pushing him a little forcefully into the room.

The knights stood back as Merlin made his way to Arthur's side, next to Gaius, who was sitting in a chair by his bed, having just finished wrapping the burns on Arthur's chest.

"He's still unconscious?" Gwaine asked.

"Just sleeping now, I believe," Gaius replied, standing and turning to face the concerned knights. "His fever is nearly defeated. However, too much noise will surely wake him."

He said the last words rather pointedly, and Percival and Elyan looked at each other over where they'd been talking and shut up.

"He should be fine from what I—"

"Gaius," Merlin cut him, grabbing the old man's arm. Merlin's head jerked towards Arthur, watching the king attentively.

Gaius turned around, and this time he too saw Arthur shift uncomfortably in his sleep, his forehead creased. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Slowly his face smoothed and his breathing changed, and everyone in the room knew that he was awake. There was silence as Arthur's good arm quietly moved across the bed sheets and up to his chest, where he felt the cloths covering his aching chest.

And then he opened his eyes.

His gaze was blank as it fell across the people in the room. He blinked, and no one moved. For a moment Merlin feared that there was no recognition there, and he stepped forward with his hand beginning to reach forward.

Arthur's eyes slid from the group to the individual. And then he opened his mouth and croaked, "Merlin."

Merlin felt himself sag a little in relief. Arthur remembered that they were friends, unlike when he had been in the cell. Merlin walked up and lifted his hand to put it on Arthur's arm.

Arthur pulled his arm away. Merlin froze, but the other knights hadn't noticed. When Arthur saw that he wasn't going to try and touch him again, he looked back at the other knights. Merlin had thought that his gaze was blank before, but now he could see the slight fear hidden behind the emptiness.

And he found himself angry at those kidnappers all over again.

"I guess you're tired, and we're being kind of loud," he said aloud.

"Yeah," said Arthur, shifting in his bed. He looked down at his no longer broken arm and frowned, perplexed. "It's fixed."

He looked up at Merlin with a question in his expression. Merlin tried to look innocent as he lied through his teeth again. "It was like that when Gwaine and I found you," he said.

As Arthur processed that, Merlin turned back to Gaius. "We should probably clear out and let him sleep, don't you think?"

Gaius nodded as he came forward. "I was about to suggest that," he said. "The king needs rest. I'll have to ask for everyone to leave."

The knights nodded willingly enough and began to file out, but before they went, Leon stopped and said, "We're glad you're back, Sire."

"In one piece," added Gwaine, reaching out to clasp Arthur's arm as he passed.

Arthur yanked back, getting his arm out of Gwaine's grip, looking alarmed for a second before he pulled himself together. None of the knights missed that, and they filed out in silence.

Merlin was the last to go.

Once out in the hall, Merlin rubbed his forehead with his hands. "He'll be fine," he said to the others, feeling the need to make the excuse. "He just needs a little time and rest."

Leon looked at Arthur's closed door. "We can't let anyone see him like that, though."

Merlin nodded and stepped out of the way as Walt the servant came down the hall, pressing himself nearer to the wall. "We only need a few days."

"Only we," Gwaine said, pointing around at the small group, "and Gaius can be allowed in there."

Elyan nodded. "What about Agravaine?"

Merlin and Gwaine looked at each other, but it was Leon who saved them from that. "He'll probably be too busy for much visiting anyway. I'm sure he'll understand that Arthur doesn't want to see anyone."

The rest agreed easily enough.

Suddenly thinking of it, Gwaine said, "We need to get those horses back to that farmer that we borrowed them from."

Feeling the need to be useful, Percival volunteered. "I'll bring them back if you tell me where."

"I'll point it out to you," Gwaine said, and both men started down the hall.

"We've all got things to be doing," Leon said, and the others nodded, but Merlin cast a look back at Arthur's door. He didn't want to move from this spot.

* * *

><p>The servant named Walt walked down the hall, turning a corner and nearly running into Saul.<p>

"Aberforth!" Saul snapped. "Can we get in?"

Walt's body looked back around to make sure no one was coming. "No, not like this," Aberforth said. "Only Emrys and the knights standing in the hall – there were four of them – are allowed in to see the Once and Future King. Them and the Court Physician. I can't get in with this body."

Saul nodded. "You'll need to get a new one."

"And you?"

"Who is with the king now?"

"The physician is inside. When I came out of the hall, the one they call Merlin – Emrys – was standing watch outside."

Saul smiled. "Well then. I might not need a disguise."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review! **


	20. Chapter 20

Arthur went back to sleep as soon as he could. He'd rather be sleeping anyway. He barely hurt anymore; the throbbing from his burns was barely noticeable. So it wasn't that he was trying to escape that by sleeping. But Arthur felt like, even in his own room, he was surrounded by enemies. He felt like even shifting in his bed was dangerous.

He knew his friends were there. Merlin and Gwaine and Gaius and the rest. They wouldn't hurt him, of course. But who knew when they would suddenly become the enemy that wanted to torture him? Who knew when Merlin might become an angry sorcerer? Those people were vicious—he had the burns and broken hand to prove it. His arm, for some reason, didn't hurt any longer…

_Why? What were they planning? What was the trick?_

He shook the thought off. There was no plan. He was safe. He had to keep telling himself that.

So it was no wonder, really, that he abandoned consciousness as soon as he could. He was only dozing, though; unfortunately, in his opinion, the real world wouldn't let him go completely, and he continued to wake up every several minutes, and then drift away again.

Gaius remained with him for a while, checking his forehead for fever and wrapping his broken hand to keep it in place. At last the physician left, and for a while Arthur was alone with himself in the quiet of his room.

That lasted for several minutes.

And then the door opened. Arthur tensed without meaning to, for he was half-awake at this point. Forcing himself against his lethargy, he tilted his head and saw Gwaine coming in.

But something was wrong. Arthur was having trouble focusing his eyes, but there was something about Gwaine's face.

Something was off.

* * *

><p>Merlin would hardly be most people's choice to stand guard. He knew that, but nonetheless, he couldn't seem to walk away and leave Arthur's room alone. Arthur was safe, but Merlin wasn't feeling it yet. He hadn't any chores at the moment, so he stuck around. Gwaine and Percival went off to take care of the horses, and Leon and Elyan each had jobs to take care of. After a while, Gaius came out of Arthur's room and told Merlin that the king would be fine for now. And then Gaius promised he would be back to check on Arthur in a while, but he had some other remedies to work on at the moment.<p>

Merlin nodded, figuring he should be on his own way. And yet he didn't really want to leave yet—he wasn't much in the mood for work. He hated to leave Arthur alone, even if the king didn't know he was there.

After a minute or so, Gwaine walked up with that easy smile on his face. "Hey, Merlin," he said. "Standing guard?"

Merlin shrugged. "I guess. A bit."

"Want me to take over for you? I'm sure you've got things to be doing."

"I'm sure you do too," Merlin said with a grin, which Gwaine mirrored.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but I'd just as soon avoid it."

"Thanks," Merlin said, peeling himself off the wall. "I guess I should grab something to eat and then clean something." He laughed. He didn't even know what he would clean. Arthur wasn't able to give him work.

He patted Gwaine on the shoulder, but Gwaine had moved and Merlin's hand slipped off. Shrugging awkwardly, Merlin made his way down the hall. He turned a corner and hit the steps, humming a little to himself as he started down them. Looking at his feet so as not to fall and live up to his clumsy reputation, he heard someone else starting up the stairs below him, and looked up.

He stopped short. "Gwaine?"

Gwaine smiled at him. "Hello, Merlin!" Then he saw the concerned look on Merlin's face. "What is it?"

Merlin stared at him for a second, and then looked back up the stairs with panic beginning to grow in his eyes. "Gwaine," he said, "You were just… How did you?"

"What?"

"What's something no one else here knows except us?"

Gwaine's eyebrows drew together and he looked up and down the stairs to make sure they weren't being watched. "My father was a noble," he said. "But I never knew him."

Merlin nodded and turned around. "Go and get help. Arthur's in trouble."

That was all Gwaine needed to hear, and he nodded swiftly and ran back down the stairs two at a time. Merlin went up the stairs, his magic already buzzing in his fingertips, ready to come to his aid. He reached the hall and promptly ran into someone coming his way.

"Sorry," he said, stepping the other way and continuing to run.

Except he barely got a step, because the someone moved too and blocked him.

"Sorry," Merlin said again, but the person didn't move, so he looked up at the face of the stranger in front of him with impatience. "I have to get past," he said, assuming it was just some noble who felt like terrorizing servants. He'd run into his fair share of those, but he didn't have the time today. Someone who looked like Gwaine was around Arthur with none of Arthur's friends around.

"I know," said the stranger. "And I can't let you."

Merlin's face creased. "What?"

"Well," said the man, pulling out a knife. "I have to kill you."

Merlin just barely dove out of the way in time, and the man swiped at air. "What the hell?" Merlin blustered as he tried to duck past, but the man nearly threw himself on the young warlock and crushed him into the wall, his knife at the ready.

The man snarled in his face, and Merlin's eyes flashed gold as the knife skittered from the man's hand onto the floor. But the man's eyes flashed just as Merlin's had, and the knife was back. Merlin gaped. Who was this man? He looked familiar.

Merlin pushed him off with some difficultly, wishing he had a weapon on him. "Why do you want to kill me?" he asked, eyeing the knife and breathing hard. He had to get past this man.

"You killed my daughter, _Emrys_," the man responded.

Merlin started. That was why he looked familiar. For heaven's sake! He opened his mouth to speak, but then he heard a shout echo quickly down the hall: Arthur.

There was no time to waste. Merlin nearly threw himself past the girl's father, but he was intercepted and they crashed into each other. Merlin struggled, grabbing the man's wrist to keep that knife away from him.

"I _will_ get past," he warned through clenched teeth.

"You'll die," the man growled.

Merlin didn't have time for this struggle. He needed to get out of this as quickly as he could. So, with the stranger still latched onto him, he took two steps back and felt gravity take over as his foot went onto the steps.

Merlin and the man rolled down the stairs, holding onto each other and crashing into the stone. Merlin's head began to spin, and his arms – especially his left elbow – took several bruise-worthy blows, but they didn't stop until they reached the bottom. Merlin used the other's surprise to push himself on top and wrench the knife away.

Eyes wild, he held the knife over the man's heart. "The man who looked like Gwaine is working for you? Who else? Who else can change shape?"

The man gasped for breath. He had blood leaking down his forehead, and he closed his lips. Merlin pushed the blade a bit down.

The man took in a breath. "Just us," he said. "But that's all we need." And then he wrapped his arm around Merlin's and pushed the knife away. He wrapped a leg around Merlin's and nearly turned him over, but Merlin brought a knee up and dug it into the man's stomach.

Growling, he snarled, "Will I have to kill your whole family?" And then Merlin switched hands and drove the knife into the man's chest.

**A/N: Hey! I'm trying to hurry and finish up this story, because I've got another one I need to start working on. (I posted it, it's another AU... sigh...) So updates might be a little quicker... hopefully. Not too much left! Okay, review, please!**


	21. Chapter 21

Merlin threw himself off the body, ripping the knife out with a disgusting squelching noise that might have bothered him if he wasn't in such a hurry. As it was, he figured he might (possibly) feel a little guilty… later. Now, there was nothing but grim satisfaction and raw worry.

He nearly flew up the stairs, avoiding several blood stains that littered the stairs. He didn't know which ones belonged to him and which to the dead stranger, but judging by the warmth on his face right underneath the pain in his head, he had his fair share. _Head wounds bleed a lot. _He would worry about it later.

He turned so fast when he reached Arthur's room that he ran into the wall, stumbled back, blinked, and went in. It was empty. And it was trashed. The wardrobe was on the wrong side of the room and half the bed seemed to have disintegrated into ash.

Just then, he heard another yell from Arthur—from down the hall.

_What, were they playing chase now?_ he thought irritably as he changed direction.

* * *

><p>Arthur woke up quickly when he saw the strange-faced Gwaine come over to his bed. He didn't know if it was paranoia or a sixth sense, but he didn't want his friend near him.<p>

After what had happened to him, he felt like it could be either.

Gwaine was silent. Most uncharacteristic. Arthur's eyes took in his figure wearily, wondering why Gwaine was looking at him like that. He wished he could just focus… If he could focus, he could look closely and assure himself that this was actually Gwaine.

But then Gwaine's eyes flashed gold as he reached for his sword.

This wasn't Gwaine.

Arthur realized then just as he had many times before that training comes back to you, right along with that rush, when you need it. Arthur pushed himself quickly and rolled off the bed with a shout just the side of the bed he had been lying on suddenly shriveled up into a crispy blackness.

Without stopping to pause for thought, Arthur, with a herculean effort, grabbed the sword by his bed. Just where it had been before he left. And then, he lifted it. He had to use his uninjured hand, because the broken one just couldn't have been able to take it. He wasn't sure he'd be able to fight – he was so _tired_ – but he had to try.

Not-Gwaine (because though Arthur still couldn't focus, he knew this wasn't Gwaine) snarled and looked at Arthur. "Quick on your feet," he complimented.

He had Gwaine's voice but not his tone. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Arthur pointed the sword at him and tried to look as threatening as a bandaged, bedraggled man could. "Stay back," he warned. _I've been trained to kill since birth. _If he wasn't so desperate and sickly terrified he would laugh.

Not-Gwaine snorted. "A pointy stick isn't going to help you win this," he informed the king. "Magic's a bit hard to beat."

His eyes flashed gold, but Arthur was watching. He saw his wardrobe start to shake and threw himself back into time to keep from being smashed to bits as it seemed to fly across the room.

Not-Gwaine was right. He couldn't beat magic… Not alone in this enclosed room. He wouldn't try.

He grabbed a small, knife-shaped letter opener from his desk. Not a dagger, but it would hurt. He threw it at his attacker. When the man ducked, Arthur made for the door. He brushed his bad hand against the doorway on his way out, and the world went a little fuzzy, but he pulled himself together and kept going. The footsteps of Not-Gwaine were just behind him, so he turned around to face him.

Gwaine's face was twisted and his hand was out, ready to use magic. Arthur kept his sword up and his knees bent, looking around the hall for any help or other peril. He kept moving backwards, and the sorcerer kept coming forwards.

They backed down the hall, past a corner before the sorcerer decided that was quite enough playing around. His eyes flashed again, but Arthur held up his sword and the light from the man's hand deflected off of it. (He hadn't known swords could do that. He needed to use that more.)

At the same time, though, while Arthur was defending himself from the magic, the sorcerer leapt and crashed into the king, knocking him to the ground. Arthur fell on his right side, his sword knocked to the side, and hollered as he hit his broken hand. Spots colored his vision, but he scooted back and tried to regain control.

He got to his feet, but the sorcerer now had a weapon out and was waving it at Arthur.

Weapon. Now there was something Arthur could cope with.

He blocked the blow without too much difficulty. The next one was a little harder, but then the sorcerer's eyes flashed (and that's just not fair, Arthur thought, terrified again as he saw the glow that he'd come to fear above all else) and a vase crashed into Arthur's side, breaking and cutting him.

Arthur just barely managed to remain on his feet. Just then, Merlin turned the corner, running full-tilt for the king and his attacker. Half of his face had blood streaked down it and he had a gore-strained knife in his hand.

The attacker whipped around but kept his weapon trained on Arthur. Merlin was still running, but the man's eyes went yellow and Merlin went flying, crashing against the wall with a wince-worthy sound.

"Stay put," the man said, "I'm taking care of the Once and Future King."

He turned back to Arthur, smiling. Arthur was gasping and sweating. Something told him that he wasn't going to be able to dodge this time… _I hate magic._

"What's the point?" Merlin suddenly called from his place slumped against the wall, not bothering to get up.

That seemed to grab the sorcerer's interest. He raised Gwaine's eyebrows. He couldn't help letting his gaze flicker away from the king and to the servant.

"I mean," said Merlin purposefully, standing, but leisurely, his entire body suddenly more relaxed than he had business being, "I don't see much more point in going about your anti-destiny business if your leader is dead. I assume he is your leader. Certainly took charge. Not that it did much good." He raised the bloody knife, and then, of all the un-Merlin-like things, he gave a dark grin.

The sorcerer faltered.

Ah, so that man _had_ been the leader. Good. Merlin liked guessing correctly.

Before the Gwaine-look-alike could recover, Merlin flickered his eyes at Arthur, and the king understood.

It wasn't very chivalrous to take advantage of a man's distraction to kill him. A true knight would never do it. Well, Arthur wasn't really feeling up to par with a strong ideal of a knight at the moment anyway. So he jumped forward and ran the sorcerer through just as another Gwaine and his "help" – Leon and Elyan – rounded the corner.

The sorcerer choked, and Gwaine's form flickered, revealing a strong man with dirty clothes rapidly becoming covered in blood.

And then Once-Gwaine fell, dead. Arthur took his sword back and staggered a bit, all his previous energy leaving him. His hand felt like he'd allowed a horse to tromp on it several times. His right arm ached heavily, too.

Merlin stumbled away from the wall, dropping the knife, wiping his own blood out of his face, and reached for Arthur.

Arthur put his sword back up, pointed straight at his servant. His eyes were dark and warning.

Merlin bit his lip, thought, and finally said, "After Morgause beat you and you went to see her, she made you put your head on a chopping block to test you. And you did."

Arthur looked almost convinced.

"And I know what the word supercilious means," Merlin added with a slight smile that was a lot more like him than the horrible grin he'd worn earlier.

Arthur put the sword down and nearly collapsed onto the ground. "Oh," he said. "It's you. I'm glad." His voice shook a little.

Merlin went towards him to help him up. Arthur shifted away from him a little, but he wasn't sure he could get up without aid, so he didn't push his servant away.

And at last Gwaine, staring at the body that had previously appeared to be his, broke right through the silence and the tension and said, "Well, that was unnerving. I hope never to see that again."

"Agreed," said Merlin, helping Arthur to his feet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: One chapter left. Just to wrap things up.**


	22. Chapter 22

Several hours passed.

They got Arthur back in his room and promised him that they wouldn't let any one person guard it again, hoping to comfort him. Arthur just looked at them tiredly, commented that his arm hurt, and fell back into his bed—the part of it that still existed anyway. After a moment, they realized that wasn't going to work. Arthur went to a spare room instead; one with a full bed, and Merlin went to get Gaius.

After it was clear that the king was going to be alright, and that the whole episode hadn't affected him too negatively (he would talk to them now in more than two word sentences, but he still wouldn't let them touch him), and the bodies were cleaned up, Merlin asked Gaius if he needed anything else. Gaius replied that he had it at the moment, and Merlin promptly disappeared.

No one noticed for a good half hour. Everyone was too busy to worry about him, but eventually Gaius asked for him—and nobody knew where he was.

Everyone was a little alarmed at that. After all, Merlin had just been attacked, and now he was gone? Gaius wanted to go look for him at once, but Agravaine suddenly showed up, having heard about the attack, and wanted to check to see how everything was.

Gaius could hardly leave him alone with the injured king.

Gwaine seemed to understand the problem before Gaius even mentioned it, so he volunteered to go look for Merlin. Gaius looked so grateful and so old as he thanked the knight that Gwaine actually blushed before scurrying off to find where Merlin had gotten to.

He found him on the steps of the North Tower.

Merlin heard Gwaine approach, but didn't lift his head from his lap or say hello. Gwaine took that as a bad sign and sat down beside him.

For a second there was an awkward silence.

And then Gwaine said, "I see you changed your shirt."

"It had blood on it."

"You didn't clean your face, and it still has blood on it."

"But this is _my_ blood."

Gwaine's smile wasn't genuine. "I understand. Do you want to…" Oh, feelings. Right. This is why he never could keep a girl too long. Well, Merlin was worth it. "Talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"What you're thinking about? Why you're hiding? How much your head hurts?"

Merlin grinned and nodded. "My head does hurt." The smile fell away. And he looked at the wall for several seconds while Gwaine waited. "I think… I think it's my fault."

Gwaine waited some more.

Merlin sighed. "I've been thinking for… I don't know, years, that I should tell Arthur. About me, you know. But I never did… I will, it just never felt like the right time, and I was scared."

Gwaine nodded to show he was listening.

"But I should have told him I was Emrys. Because they hurt him and he didn't _know_, but if he had…"

Gwaine thought this was an optimal time to interrupt the rant. "He probably still wouldn't have told them." Merlin looked at him, and he seemed to be silently begging Gwaine to be right. "Arthur is a very stubborn man, and he's a good one. He protects his friends."

"I might not have still been his friend." Merlin said, looking at his feet.

"Yes, well, he strikes me as the sort who protects his ex-friends too," Gwaine said sensibly. "All the same, I wouldn't suggest breaking the news to him right now. He's not really ready for that, I imagine."

Merlin shrugged. "There had to be something I could've done."

Seriously, Gwaine replied, "Merlin, it wasn't your fault. You have to realize that. Arthur will be fine, but it wasn't your fault, and you can't beat yourself up over it."

"I still feel guilty."

Gwaine swallowed. "I guess that's normal, but you have to remember that it isn't your fault."

Merlin gave a half-smile. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Anything else? That you want to say."

Merlin looked at Gwaine. "I'm not sorry that I stabbed him," he said, as though as a warning. "He had it coming anyway. Is that wrong?"

Gwaine thought this over. "If it is, I'm just as wrong as you are, mate."

"That's not much comfort."

Gwaine saw that Merlin was hiding a grin and he had to laugh. "Gaius is looking for you. Don't you want to head back yet?"

"Maybe I'll stay here a little longer."

Gwaine looked out the window. "You've been away from the king's side for nearly an hour now."

"That long?" said Merlin in a tone of surprise, but Gwaine couldn't see him, because he was still looking at the sun's position in the sky.

"Yeah, that long. Gaius probably makes you want to help, besides, so maybe we should be headed back so the others don't worry about where you went to…"

But when he turned back, Merlin was already gone.

Gwaine smiled approvingly. Being at Arthur's side, doing something, would help to ease Merlin's feelings. After all, being back where _he_ belonged always made Gwaine feel better.

Speaking of which, he needed a drink.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm not as fond of the ending of this story as I am of other stories. But it was a really fun ride, and I'm glad I wrote it. Now I'll be working on the other three stories I've started… Any of which you are free to check out if you wish... X Marks the Man, The Vault of Emrys, and Polishing Armor, for one little last bit of self-promotion.**

**I am not ashamed. **

**Well, please review and tell me what you thought of my story!**


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